


A Gangsta To Love Her Better

by HisBossBitch (Kithi1), Kithi1



Series: His Elizabeth Boland [5]
Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: And every Rio in between, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Violence, Blow Jobs, Brio's baby, Canon Rewrite, Car Sex, Cunnilingus, Dean Boland Being an Asshole, Domestic Fluff, Edgeplay, Edging, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fellatio, Fights, Fingerfucking, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff, Fuck Dean Boland, Fucking, Gangsta loving, Getting Back Together, Gun Violence, Guns, Hurt/Comfort, Hurts So Good, Idiots in Love, Jealous Beth Boland, Jealousy, Knives, Lust, Lust Hunger Want Need, Male Friendship, Multi, New characters some mysterious and deadly, POV Dean Boland, POV Rio (Good Girls), Parent Rio (Good Girls), Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Pregnancy Kink, Pregnant Beth, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rio (Good Girls) Being an Asshole, Rio protects Beth without her knowing, Rio's baby, Rio/ MickBromance: would that I had a Mick of my own, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Sex in a Car, Sex so good; so much of it (blush), Sexual Tension, Shifts in and out of Canon, Smut, Soft Rio (Good Girls), Some good good gangsta loving (did I say that already?), Stranger Sex, Surprise Kissing, Team F-Dean forever, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, gritty violence that Rio will not shy away from, sex with stranger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:06:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 52
Words: 189,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28190625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kithi1/pseuds/HisBossBitch, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kithi1/pseuds/Kithi1
Summary: Season 2 was beyond perfect. Season 3 gave me anxiety. So I did a full Canon rewrite to cope.The hubris! The audacity! Amiright? 🙈Highlights:1.What if Beth were preggers for real?2. Sex, Language, Violence3.The feels (Every one's all up in their feelings)4. What does Rio do when he's not showing up for his Elizabeth?5.You get a gangsta; I get a gangsta; we ALL get a gangsta (give the people what they want, Oprah style)RECENT:Tears and Recriminations (TnR): Beth and Rio like to knife each other. Stuck with each other, they go all out in a blame game that spans 2 countries.Chap 49: TnR: Her Soft Touch.Chap 50: TnR: Trust IssuesChap 51: TnR: An Unwitting ConfessionNEW: Chap 52: TnR: Million Dollar QuestionNEXT:Chap 53: TnR: Trust Fall (ETA Thursday)
Relationships: Beth Boland/James Fitzpatrick/Rio, Beth Boland/Rio, Beth Boland/Ruby Hill/Annie Marks, Mick & Rio (Good Girls), Mick/Rio (Good Girls), Rio (Good Girls)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: His Elizabeth Boland [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2030728
Comments: 780
Kudos: 383





	1. Game, Set, Deuce

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MissTricey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissTricey/gifts).



> Always, ever for MissTricey,  
> Who said she was low-key disappointed that Beth was not pregnant for real and that it felt OOC for Beth to lie about something like that;  
> Hope you love it. 😘
> 
> Dear reader,  
> I hope you lose yourself in here for a little while, just like I did. 
> 
> s_t_c_s, don't run away coz I ship brio. There's something for everyone.

**_Game, Set, Deuce_ **

_Thunk._ She serves. The score is 30-40 in favour of Rio. He lobs the ball back and she thinks she has been playing him for too many years because she predicts it and returns it with ease. He hits back an easy open stance forehand and that’s when she notices it; he’s not playing up as he normally would. He is holding back on the power of his stroke. She’s curious; he always does this right before he broaches a difficult subject. Then he plays up after and leaves her struggling to recover from what he has said. The ball goes back and forth over the net a couple of times then she takes another slow lob from him and smashes it back. It bounces a foot to his left, well within reach of his racquet; an easy backhand would pick it up nicely. He misses. _Curiouser and curiouser!_ she muses. 

  
  


“Point, Zorada! And deuce,” she crows and gets to the baseline to serve. She tosses the ball and that’s when he says it, “She’s pregnant.” Her serve goes wide, out of the service box. “Wow! Congratulations, Christopher! I didn’t know you and Rhea were trying.” 

  
  


Rio sniggers and later she thinks she should have interrogated that snicker before setting up for next serve. She keeps it simple; this is hardly the time for a double fault. “ _Elizabeth_ is pregnant.” She misses the serve entirely; her racquet simply comes down on empty air. The ball drops at her feet and rolls off the court. She drops her racquet, says “What?!” but Rio only shoots her a dirty look. “Pick it up, Counselor. Match point; my advantage.” 

  
  


She’s off her game and she knows it. But she’s not going down easy and so she delivers a flawless next serve. From a perfect trophy pose, racquet in continental grip, she sends the ball cross-court and it’s almost sinful how good she makes it look. Rio is ready for it though. He has always had a mean western grip and he uses it to good effect, delivering a powerful stroke heavy on topspin. She hasn’t a hope of meeting it.

  
  


He’s walking towards her when he says, “That’s game, set and match, Zorada. Maybe you could actually try hitting the ball next time.” 

“You did that deliberately, you cheat,” she sputters and elbows him gently. She’s laughing and he grins back, unrepentant. “But seriously, Christopher, say what you said again.”

He smirks, “Maybe next time you could actually try hitting…” She pushes him again as he gets his towel and he laughs at her, a smug sound. 

“No. The thing, the other thing, Christopher. Don’t be obtuse.” 

  
  


“What? Elizabeth’s pregnant. You heard me the first time.” He walks off the court. He sounds matter-of-fact about it but she thinks it’s an act. He had known that what he was saying was surprising to say the least and that’s why he had waited until the end of their match to bring it up. 

  
  


She grabs her bag, walks beside him. “ _The_ Elizabeth?”

“Yeah.” He slings his towel around his neck. 

“The one who shot you.” 

Rio grimaces, stops walking, stands watching her face then, “The one who shot me,” he repeats; starts walking again.

She’s not letting it go. “The one who is married to someone else? Boland? _That_ Elizabeth?”

 _Fuckin’ Carman_ , Rio thinks. “Yeah.” His voice is tight. 

  
  


Zorada is incredulous. “You’re kidding! What? When? How? How’d that happen?” She knows she should compose herself but she feels as though she’s hallucinating this conversation.

Rio smirks at her. “You want me to explain?”

  
  


She must be really out of it because she doesn’t hear the teasing note in his voice and nods. He launches right into his own little dubious version of the birds-and-bees, “You see, when two people who have the hots for each other really want to get it on, they…” She stops, rolls her eyes at him. “Stop it. I’m serious, Christopher.”

“So I see,” he huffs. “Lunch, Counselor. Lots of business to discuss.”

  
  


They have a quick lunch; she has to head out to work. He tells her to sell off some investments; he needs some capital; he’s got some deals that need financing. They work out the details quickly and she tells him she’ll get on it right away. Twice she brings up Elizabeth and he brushes her off; steers the conversation back to business. 

  
  


Then lunch is done and they are waiting for the check. He leans back in his chair, watches her through narrowed eyes and says, “You get one question, Zorada. Make it good.”

She seems bemused. “She shot you.” 

Rio’s jaw locks. His voice is cold when he grits out, “That’s not a question.” She stares him down; she doesn’t intimidate easy. He huffs and rolls his shoulders. “Okay, try again.”

  
  


“Is it yours?” She already knows the answer because why else would they be having this conversation. 

“Too early for the paternity test but yeah… It’s mine.”

Zorada chokes. “No paternity test and you’re acting like you’re sure it’s yours? Come on, Christopher.”

  
  


He looks annoyed at her words. “I’ll get the test, okay? I’m not entirely stupid.” She sniggers. They’ve been friends for a long time; she’s allowed some liberties. So he ignores it and continues, “Just gotta wait a couple weeks or so.”

  
  


“Have you told Rhea?”

“Told her what, Zorada? I just told you and you’re already at me about paternity. 

“Yeah, yeah.” She looks almost apologetic but pushes on anyway, “But that’s why you’re telling me, ‘cause I need to know when to protect your interests. It’s why you pay me the big bucks after all, right?” She smiles at him.

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves a hand negligently at her. “I get it; you gotta do what you need to do, Counselor. So now you’re in the loop.” The check is placed beside him. 

  
  


“Does the husband know?” 

Rio huffs, stands and slips some money into the check presenter. “Let’s not talk this to death, Zorada.” He pats her shoulder and then he’s gone. 

  
  
  
  



	2. Since I Met You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth gives; Elizabeth takes away. 
> 
> He knows he’s not going to like what she says, so he takes his time saying hi to Mick. He is reluctant to go over to her; maybe because it’s three in the morning and she should be sleeping and she shouldn’t be here but she is. He knows trouble when he sees it.

**_Since I Met You_ **

**_Beth:_ ** _I just wanna be okay_

_There ain’t nothing wrong with that_

_I’m losing my life away_

_Losing myself and I want it back_

_-_

**_Rio:_ ** _I’m a loser, yes it’s true_

_Feels like I am losing since I met you_

_Through the good times and the bad_

_Feels like I’m losing all I ever had…_

**Credit: Loser by Limp Bizkit**

  
  


Beth hasn’t slept for two days. She’s exhausted and she’s irritable and she’s nauseous. But mostly she’s angry… maybe a bit sad. Mostly angry though. Listening to the sound of Dean snoring quietly beside her, she can feel herself want to snap. 

  
  


Her hand is poised to bang at the car window again when Mick comes up behind her. 

“Can’t sleep?” She jumps. He drags on a blunt. She eyes it dubiously.

“Ha,” Mick chuckles. “You made me do the time, Mrs. B. Now I’m doing the crime.” She rolls her eyes but smiles weakly. She’s starting to like Mick. 

“Give me a ride,” she tells him. They don’t talk but it’s late enough that the streets are deserted; the drive is quick. 

چوچو

She’s seated at the bar when Rio comes in; at the same place where she has always sat. There’s a drink in front of her; he hopes he’s wrong about what’s in it. Had he asked, she would have told him ginger ale; she’s feeling nauseous after that drive. But he doesn’t ask. He knows he’s not going to like what she says, so he takes his time saying hi to Mick. He is reluctant to go over to her; maybe because it’s three in the morning and she should be sleeping and she shouldn’t be here but she is. He knows trouble when he sees it. 

  
  


He braces himself, seats himself next to her, leans on the bar, his hands interlaced in front of him. He tells himself he’s not locked his hands for the reason he knows he has; she looks tired and he wants to brush her hair from her face. But he doesn’t; just hangs his head over his arms and tilts his head to watch her. This is going to go badly. 

  
  


And then she says it, “Can I get a shot of tequila?” 

_Oh, shit! Here we go!_ he thinks. _Tequila! What does that even mean?_ He scratches his head, runs his hand over his head, locks his fingers again. “You might wanna slow down, yeah?” He meets her eyes. She’s unimpressed; shrugs her shoulders at him. 

“We never got to toast,” she says. 

  
  


Rio wants to tell her that yes, yes they had; that he and Mick had drunk a toast to her and the baby. That Mick had poured a bourbon for her and put it right where she’s sitting now. And Rio had drunk it because she hadn’t been there and she couldn’t drink it anyway. He wants to tell her. But he doesn’t. 

“And one for my baby daddy over here.” 

  
  


He bites his lip. He’s exhausted. He is just really tired and he doesn’t want this to be happening right now. He looks at the drinks. He hopes she’s bluffing; that she’s really not going to reach for it. But then she does. So he covers her hand with his; holds it in place; and her fingers are cold; and he feels tired and he wishes he could go back in Time; back to when he could hold her; go back to when the sky wasn’t always falling around him.

Abstractedly, he thinks that maybe the sky has been falling since the very first time he met her and he wouldn’t want to undo that. He just wants to go back to the time when he was carefree. He thinks he remembers being almost happy; when they’d been locked in an endless game of cat and mouse, trying to best each other. It had been wild and reckless but it had been thrilling; and it had felt like a _game_ , not a war. And he thinks maybe there had been times he had felt angry and let down and uncertain and even jealous because of her but he had always felt alive and sometimes even happy. Now he just feels tired. 

  
  


“What are you doing, Elizabeth?” His voice is tight, choked. He wants to clear his throat. And he doesn’t think there’s much more exhaustion that a body can feel but then she says it, “I’m not keeping it. The baby; I’m not keeping it.”

Rio drops her hand. But he keeps the shot of tequila, turns back away from her to the bar and locks his fingers together. 

  
  


“When?” 

She looks at him blankly for a minute like she’s trying to read his face or understand his question and he wants to scream at her, “When, Elizabeth? When did you decide this? When are you going to do it? Just when.” He doesn’t; he just watches her, hunches his shoulders. 

  
  


“Does it matter?” 

He drops his hands to the bar, looks at her. She meets his gaze; her face is open but blank; there’s nothing in it for him. _Does it matter? Does it matter? Evidently not._ He’s biting the inside of his cheek. A small part of him wonders whether he’s the one who has done this to her; made her hard and cold; made her hate him enough that she would rather he killed her than have his baby. He thinks of the baby’s heartbeat; _whomp, whomp, whomp, whomp._ His chest aches. He feels like choking; he wants to gasp. His eyes are tight; he is working to keep the sadness off his face. Why does it hurt to lose something he hadn’t wanted? 

  
  


“Alright, then.” Rio sighs. He drinks the tequila, takes the second shot as well. He feels defeated; drained; all the life sucked out of him. He doesn’t look at her face. He doesn’t want to see her not care. He doesn’t want her to see him care.

  
  


“So what comes next?” she asks

“Nothing good.” And his voice is quieter than she has ever heard it before. Quiet and rough and strangled. She doesn’t know what that means. She doesn’t have time to think about it anyway. She’s got more pressing issues now; she has just traded away the only thing that was keeping her alive. _Better talk fast, Beth_ , she tells herself.

“How much would it cost?” 

“For what?” Rio is confused. _Cost?_

“My life,” she responds and he scoffs. 

  
  


He scoffs because they’ve just been talking about the baby; and now they’ve moved on to the value of her life; and he feels like he has whiplash. And in instant, he’s gone from exhausted to a barely-contained rage. _How much would her life cost?_

  
  


How does he even begin to wrap his mind around that? _Christ!_ After everything that’s happened between them how much does she think she’s worth for her to still be walking about? And how does she think he’s supposed to put a number on that? And even if he does, how does she think she can pay that price? 

  
  


How much has he lost for her? How much of his kingdom? How about everything he’s ever worked for and very nearly lost it all? How about his life? _What’s the going rate for that, Elizabeth_ ? How about the cost of Marcus growing up without a dad? _Huh? What’s the charge for that? You sure can’t afford that._ And for her? With his baby in her? She doubly can’t afford _that_! 

  
  


Then it hits him; there won’t be a baby in her much longer. _Goddamn, Elizabeth!_ And just like a balloon popping, his fury dissipates and he is back to feeling bone-weary. He fuckin’ hates it; this rollercoaster of emotions he’s been on since he met her. He’s fed up with it and he thinks it’s time to be done with it, with her. He is getting off at the next stop or he’s going to puke. 

  
  


So he scoffs but only tells her it’s too late for them to talk about that. She keeps talking, “you haven’t been in the game for 2 months.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Rio tells her. She just won’t stop talking, “No pills, no cars, no cash.” 

He catches himself thinking, _there’s that sweet lying mouth that she’s been keeping shut._ He hadn’t thought he’d hear her again; mouthing off at him. He thinks he had missed it but now is just not the time. He’s too tired to do this. 

  
  


“Yeah, you don’t know my interests.”

 _His interests_ ; _there’s that word again,_ Beth thinks to herself. _Twice in two days; they even sound alike, he and his lawyer._ Resentment pricks at her and she squashes it. She pushes on, “I know they need capital.” She argues that Mick could kill her off at any time Rio wanted. And see, that’s technically true; except for the part about him wanting to. 

  
  


In the end he tells her to get him a hundred thousand. It’s a temporary reprieve. But it makes them both feel better. He doesn’t really think she’ll get it. Plus she owes him much more than a hundred grand. And he refuses to admit it to himself but as long as she owes him, he’s got a reason to keep her around and stay in her life. _Her life!_ She really couldn’t afford to buy it back but at least he doesn’t have to kill her yet. 

  
  


The bartender refills their glasses, places one in front of Elizabeth. Rio pushes it away from her. He is not looking at her when he says, “You can drink _After._ ” They both know what _after_ he means. He is starting to hate this bar. 

چوچو

“Take her home, Mick.”

And Rio is not superstitious.

But when he downs his third shot,

He can’t help but remember.

An empty barstool and an empty bottle in a crowded bar,

And the third shot of bourbon,

That he had been too shit-faced to drink;

To Babies, God love them and protect them and preserve their innocence.

_whomp, whomp, whomp, whomp, whomp…_

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MissTricey,  
> Have you thrown your phone yet?!


	3. Molo Tov!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rio could have laughed because just a bunch of bitches has come to mean only one thing in his barren wasteland of a fuckin’ life; Elizabeth fuckin’ Boland. 
> 
> She’s the Molotov cocktail to his life; 
> 
> Recipe:  
> Take 1 Elizabeth Boland;  
> -strawberry-blonde with curves to inspire wet dreams-  
> Add one short, annoying but somewhat-amusing sister......

**_Molo Tov!_ **

“It’s just a bunch of bitches.” 

Rio swears he could have laughed. He could have laughed because _just a bunch of bitches_ has come to mean only one thing in his barren wasteland of a fuckin’ life; _Elizabeth fuckin’ Boland_ . At this point, he is starting to feel like he can’t make a move without having to deal with an _Elizabeth_ -situation. He swears he is overrun with her.

She’s the Molotov cocktail to his life; 

Recipe: 

  * Take 1 Elizabeth Boland; 



-strawberry-blonde with curves to inspire wet dreams-

  * Add one short, annoying but somewhat-amusing sister,
  * Mix in one near-lifelong, loyal-even-unto-death friend
  * Throw in one dumbass husband _-fuckin’ Carman-_ and 4 kids,
  * Stir in 23 ounces of crazy, fearless sass and a hint of desperation,
  * Dress it all up with the polite manner of a Stepford wife,
  * add a generous splash of bourbon, 
  * one pearl necklace, 
  * Shake well, pour,
  * Garnish with 3 bullets and a twist of lemon, 
  * Light on fire and…drink up, bitches! **_Molo Tov!_**



And now his life has been on fuckin’ fire since he first met her. 

He blames the pearls. 

  
  


Something about finding those pearls swinging on that warehouse door had made him stupid, he thinks. Something about holding those beads in his hand and knowing that she had taken them off her lovely neck to summon him had rendered him reckless and impulsive and unable to think except with his dick. And he has been paying the price every damn minute of every day since. 

  
  


_Shit! Wait. Her tits. Those glorious tits!_ Rio thinks those deserve an honorable mention. _Yeah, **now** you can drink up, bitches! **Molo Tov!**_

So anyway, Rio doesn’t laugh. He gets that if this weren’t _his_ life, he _would_ be laughing it up. But this is far from funny to him because if this funny money on the bar is _her_ funny money, then he has got himself a whole new set of problems. He runs through the options in his mind; 

  1. Elizabeth has found a new source of counterfeit money which means there’s a new supplier in town and that new player is running Elizabeth; _Fuck_! He hopes that he is wrong because he would rather not have another fight over territory. He tells himself that he’s not crass enough to include Elizabeth in that designation of territory but he feels an irksome sense of proprietariness when he thinks about it. _My girl…She’s fuckin’ mine, isn’t she?_


  1. Elizabeth is trying to muscle in on his territory herself; somehow that feels both better and worse. At least, this option won’t have to devolve into gang war but if nothing else, he might have to kill something and that _something_ has, for the longest time, needed to be _her_ but he still can’t bring himself to do it. 



Yes, this feels right. She’s the one behind the scheme somehow; _Goddamn, Elizabeth!_ There she goes again, taking something that doesn’t belong to her. He chuckles to himself; the sound is cold and hollow. Somehow he doubts she’s going about ripping off gang lords all over the place. 

There she goes taking something that belongs to _him._

It’s just his things that she wants then, huh? _Christ!_ It’s not as though he has someone else to blame. He brought this whole fuckin’ house of cards down on himself; giving her the fuckin’ keys to the kingdom! What had he been thinking? And for what? A string of pearls?! 

_A string of pearls._ There’s a stirring of heat low in his belly. He shifts from leg to leg; his jeans suddenly feel snug. There goes his body; trying to betray him. Before Elizabeth had shot him, he had liked to take the pearls out from time to time and think of her; come to the image of her naked but for those pearls. _After_ she shot him though, and he came back from the hotel where turner had stashed him, he has been afraid to look at them. _Turner is dead now;_ that’s a satisfying thought.

But every night that he wakes up from a dream of her, he lies in the darkness and thinks about that little locked wooden box in the nightstand. He thinks about the pearls lying on a pair of electric-blue silk panties inside that box until his body hurts. Then he goes to the bathroom and stands under a cold shower till he shivers. And then he goes back to bed and tries not to get hard again. Sometimes, he sleeps. _A string of fuckin’ pearls._

And now she’s taking something that belongs to him; again… _A-fuckin’-gain!_ He could have sworn they have had this little chat in the past but evidently she hadn’t been paying attention and needed a refresher course in _Not-Crossing-Rio 101._ The irony of it is that her goon had unwittingly tried to wash her funny money through _Rio’s_ guys so she could pay _Rio._ It’s almost enough to make a body laugh…cry…something. 

He thinks of the night he had been drinking with Mick right in this bar and how he had just been trying to forget his worries for one night but instead he had felt as though fate had laid her jaundiced eye on him. He and Mick had toasted. _To War; for kingdoms and for the women we love. We know, they’ll be the death of us._

And now Fate is apparently coming to collect because Fate has just thrown Elizabeth at him again… _Again!_ _Christ!_

He thinks about it some more and decides he is not done getting mad; Elizabeth obviously knows that there are some heavy-hitters in Detroit’s dark underbelly. Which means that she is counting on the fact that none of the gangleaders, Rio in particular, would wise up to the fact that there is an influx of new funny money on the street. _Does she think we’re idiots?_ Well…with a gun to her head, she _had_ already called him an idiot once…and to his face, no less. 

Or maybe she figures that even if he finds out, they’ll still sit around the campfire toasting marshmallows, holding hands and singing kumbaya. He scoffs, _Joke’s on you, darling. I hate camping and I detest marshmallows._

Ultimately, the thing that has Rio most worked up is the fact that she’s going to call attention to herself. For starters, this guy she’s got doing the washing is about as sharp as a butter knife. And although he seems like a nice-enough guy, he’s got no real cojones on him. For Chrissake, the guy had caved after 6 literal minutes with Mick then sang like a fuckin’ bird during nesting season. 

A cold shiver runs down his spine; if one of her guys gets pinched by the cops, she and her girls are done and she winds up in jail. No; he does not care to interrogate that shiver too closely.

Wherever she’s getting her product, she needs a better distribution network. _Mmmmhhh, yeah…_ he can see how that would work; she has the product, he has the network. _We can make some money, mama._ She’ll fight him of course, but he’s not about to ask pretty please with a cherry on top. She owes him and he’s going to collect.

He looks at the money again. It’s good; really really good. The only reason he knows for sure that its counterfeit is that this jerkass happened to pick the wrong bar to move it through. 

“So who made your money?”

Gil practically wails, “The bunch of dumb bitches, I told you.”

“So…these basic bitches, where’ they at, my man?” Rio asks.

  
  


The guy, Gil, tells Rio everything he needs to know; the longer he talks, the more pissed off Rio gets; she’s _printing_ money now? _Cooking it herself?_ An old conversation plays in his mind.

“There she is. We’ve got to celebrate. You did it. You’re a boss now. What’s your poison, huh? Like a summer rosé or something?” He was teasing.

“Thank you, I’m not staying,” Elizabeth had said, sitting on the edge of the barstool, her purse still clutched in her hand.

  
  


“You sure? I’m giving you the keys to the kingdom here.”

“Why? Why me?” She had been uncertain, like she didn’t see what he saw every time he looked at her. 

“I think you could be something.” 

“I don’t want to be something.” She didn’t want his kingdom; she wanted to go back to being a sweet mama of 4. 

  
  


“No? What you wanna be, then? Fireman? Astronaut?”

“I don’t know. A good person. 

“Nah, you’re way more interesting than that.” he had smiled at her when he said it but he had been dead-serious. She had thought he was flirting; and yes, he had been flirting but he had also meant every word. 

  
  


“You don’t know me.” 

“I think I _do_ ,” Rio had shot back.

She had shaken her blonde curls at him, eyes wide in her face and a hint of a smile on her sweet mouth; a bittersweet challenge hidden in her words as though she expected him to fail her little test, “I don’t drink rosé.”

  
  


Rio had looked in her beautiful eyes; ordered her drink while holding her gaze, “Can we get a bourbon? On the rocks?” and he had seen it; the exact moment when something had flickered in those eyes; something unexpected; something startled; the realization that he, _Rio_ , had seen her; that he was seeing her; that she was worth seeing; that he was _really_ seeing her. 

And then she had bolted; still the reluctant queen to his king. And he had drunk the bourbon and taken the key to give back to her when she was ready. 

  
  


_What you wanna be, then? Astronaut?”_ the question echoes in his mind; the answer, _Chef!_ He shakes his head. He had been off the mark by the difference between a rocket trip to the moon and a car ride to the grocery story for dinner supplies. Maybe he still hadn’t been seeing her as clearly as he had thought; hadn’t seen all that she could be. 

  
  


_Chef!_ She’s playing to her strengths too; Marcus can’t stop talking about her damn apple pie. Rio’s starting to think he also needs to try that pie. The kitchen is her wheelhouse, maybe even her safe space. _Aight, ma!_ _That’s all about to change now, darling. Let’s turn up that heat!_

چوچو

  
  
  


Mick gags Gil, the con, again but tells him to settle down; they’ll cut him loose soon enough. He’s not the kind of rotten egg that needs to be gotten rid of. He’s not going to talk; not if he doesn’t want to wind up dead; or in jail where he’ll also wind up…well, dead. Mick reckons they could use him for the less sensitive stuff. Rio says he will think about it. 

  
  


“Aight, Mick.” They take their usual seats at the bar. “What’s been going on over there? How’s she managing to print and distribute while you’re watching her?

“I don’t know what to tell you, man.” Mick sounds rueful. He rubs his bald head. “She works nights a lot. I didn’t think it was weird. I just thought she’s been taking the overtime to make some extra money.”

  
  


The both hear it at the same time; _to make some extra money._ Rio chokes on his drink. He coughs, keeps a straight face. Mick freezes; stares back at Rio. They pause; each daring the other to laugh first. A corner of Mick’s mouth twitches. Rio almost doesn’t see it because of Mick’s beard. Almost. But he does. 

  
  


Mick starts to grin, then swallows it. He shuts his eyes; he is about to crack so he puts his hand over his face; drags it down to his mouth and then to his beard. It’s a strange thing to watch but Rio can see composure return to Mick’s face; as Mick’s hand drags down, his face grows calmer starting from his eyes, down his cheeks and ending with his mouth. 

  
  


Rio bites his lip, swallows. The eagle on his neck shifts, then settles. In the end, it’s Rio who cracks first; Mick makes a choked sound at the back of his throat and Rio snorts then chuckles. Mick falls apart too. He laughs; a deep, full-throated laugh. It’s nice. For a few minutes, the only sound is the sound of Mick and Rio hollering. 

  
  


Sitting bound and gagged at a table behind them, Gil stares at them uncertainly; he doesn’t know why they’re laughing but this doesn’t look good. _These two muthafuckas are crazier than those bitches!_ he thinks, _and that’s saying something._

  
  


“She is, Mick,” Rio sniggers, “ _making_ some extra fuckin’ money,” It provokes another fit of laughter. Mick stands up, leans on the bar, wipes his eyes on the back of his hand and mumbles under his breath, “damn, Mrs B.” Rio loves Mick just for this; they’ll be having any old random conversation and hilarity will ensue. 

  
  


Then Rio coughs and his face suddenly goes cold; hard. _Scary as fuck,_ thinks Gil. Rio slams an open palm on the bar. “How, Mick? How the fuck does every problem in my life begin and end with her?”

  
  


Mick rubs a hand over his head. He knows it’s a rhetorical question but he answers anyway, “I don’t know, man. Every problem…but some solutions too, right?” Rio raises an eyebrow.

Mick says, “I don’t know, Rio. But you know…you found her.” 

He falters but continues, “I would have never seen what you saw, man. And you were right; She’s…” Mick searches for a word. “… something. She’s something, Rio. Something different.” 

Rio huffs out a breath but his voice is soft when he says, “You about done, Mick?” 

  
  


“Yeah. I’m done,” Mick says but he doesn’t stop talking. He looks pensive; he is staring into his glass, almost like he forgot he was talking to Rio, “Just gotta push her and not break her until you guys are good again… Unless you’ve got to kill her.” 

Then Mick snorts, “Or she kills _you_. For real this time.”

  
  


A chill ghosts down Rio’s spine. _Fuck!_ “You gotta stop doing that, Mick.”

“What?” He seems surprised.

“Saying things, Mick,” Rio returns. “You gotta stop saying these things,” he chuckles but in his voice, there’s an uncanny twist.


	4. Racing to 60 with My Low-Beams On

**_Racing to 60 with My Low-Beams On_ **

_If she were any other woman; if I were any other man._ He scoffs at the thought and pulls into traffic. It’s late enough that the post-dinner rush is just ending. He should be thankful; he has to drive halfway across town and put the fear of God and Rio in her. A light drizzle starts up; _Shit!_ He doesn’t have a jacket in the car. He should care a bit more than he does but mostly, he’s just thankful. 

  
  


Normally he would hate driving in this weather. Traffic is going to get a bit heavier; the drive will be longer. _Good._ He drives past a coffee shop; it looks warm and inviting. For a moment, he thinks of stopping; taking out a cup of tea, or a hot chocolate. Maybe even sit down and drink it.

He slows down, flicks the turn lights on, then he speeds up again. He knows what that would be; _procrastination._ It’s exactly what he needs right now; just a little bit of avoidance. But he can’t afford to do it. The sooner it’s done the better, right? He is driving fast now; avoiding the desire to avoid. 

  
  


He rolls his shoulders; they feel tight. Tense. Taut. As though his body already know what’s coming; there’s trouble on the horizon. He doesn’t want to do this; doesn’t want to go to her. He doesn’t have a choice. He doesn’t want to think about her either. He doesn’t want to think about her or the baby she’s not having for him any longer.

Maybe he should see what randomness is on radio; drown out the sound of his stupid heart pining. _When exactly did I become this guy? Hang up on a wonan? But she’s not just any woman though; it’s Elizabeth._ “Goddamn!” he snarls and grips the wheel tighter.

  
  


He turns on the radio. It’s tuned to a station that Mick likes. He listens to the song that’s playing for a minute.

…Oh, you left a hole in me but I don’t cut easily…

…We can go wild if that’s what you want, fire at me…

…I’d rather fight with you all night than never have you in my life..

…why don’t you do it again? Go wrecking something of mine…

  
  


_Mmmh, Elizabeth…why don’t you; go wreck something of mine again? Right, mama?_ He shakes his head. A new song comes on;

…I was sober when I met you and that’s why I can’t forget you…

…And I wanna show you the parts of my broken heart…

…I’ve got way too many scars and tattoos…

…Way too many scars…

  
  


Those words hit a little too close to home. He doesn't notice that he is doing it but for a moment, he rubs the scars on his chest. He changes the station; 

…I know it hurts that we don’t touch anymore

it’s even worse that we built this from the floor…

…I want you bad, but it’s done. I’m bleeding out, ‘cause we can’t go on

I want you bad, ‘til I shake.

I want what we had, but what’s broken don’t unbreak…

  
  


_Christ! I don’t even get to touch her, do I?!_ he thinks. He misses pushing her hair away from her face. _What’s broken don’t unbreak_ . He asks himself whether that’s true; that what’s broken can’t be unbroken. Somehow that makes him a bit sad. _Seriously, get it together, Rio!_

  
  


He flicks to another station. There has _got_ to be something tolerable on, right?

…Headlights, on me; 

Racing to 60, I’ve been a fool,

But strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you

Blue eyes, black jeans

Lighters and candy, I’ve been a fool

Still strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you _…_

He laughs then; long and hard and a bit bitter. _Blue eyes, black jeans, huh? Is there anything more_ **_Elizabeth_ ** _than that; blue eyes and black jeans?_ This must be some kind of cosmic joke; the universe has apparently decided to take time out of its busy schedule to mess with him? _Haha, Let’s all just laugh it up then,_ he thinks.

But then the chuckle trails weakly off because Elizabeth tastes of strawberries and bourbon and he would really like to taste her again. He licks his lips; he can almost taste the memory of her. Just once, he’d like to taste… That will never happen again. He curses. 

  
  


So he changes the station and thinks maybe he really is cursed because every song tonight makes him think of her and her _sweet, lying mouth._

…I remember every taste

If I get a little wasted

I can almost see your face

Such a dark and lonely place

I’m not over it,

Someone get me over it…

  
  


_Fuck! Seriously!_ He changes the station again. But just once, he would really like to taste her though.

…You’re the scars on my skin, you’re the past I don’t wanna erase…

You’re the words on my lips that have left but I still seem to taste..

Maybe I’m just too tired to keep lyin’…

maybe you’re all I ever wanted

  
  


_Are you even kidding me?_ _Is this really what Mick listens to when he’s got the car?_ He turns off the radio in disgust; he needs that on his mind right now, like he needs another slug in his chest. _Fuck!_ Like he hasn’t got enough of those exact thoughts taking up mental real-estate all day, every fuckin’ day! He’ll take silence or die, thank you. 

  
  


His thoughts are loud…too loud…inescapable. He sighs, gives in to them.

چوچو

**Playing on the radio on Mick’s preferred stations:**

(Because Mick likes pop; Who woulda thunk it?)

-

Collide by James Bay

Scars and Tattoos by Gavin Haley

Bad by James Bay

Strawberries and Cigarettes by Troye Sivan

Dance Til You Love Someone Else by Sam Smith

Lost my mind by Alice Kristiansen/ Finneas

  
  
  



	5. Loud in My Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Take her funny money, for instance; her beautiful, near-flawless, just-absolutely-bananas-how-good-it-is funny money that she cooked herself, apparently....someone else is going figure out what she is doing and start leaning on her; then she will really be in a mess...or killed. 
> 
> Well, as long as someone has to do the leaning, it might as well be me, Rio thinks. 

**_Loud in My Head_ **

_**Rio** : …So much love in my bones, _

_but the world might never know,_

_‘cause my head gets loud,_

_Trying to turn it down some; let the bass bleed,_

_So I can drown it out, like boom boom boom…_

**Mood Music Credit: My Head Gets Loud By Ryan Caraveo**

His thoughts are loud…too loud…inescapable. He sighs, gives in to them.

  
  


If she were any other woman; if he were any other man; fixing things would be easy. He could have walked up to her and pulled her into his arms and kissed her and maybe if she were any other woman, he would only need to say, “I’m sorry and I forgive you” or “I love you. Let’s start over.” 

  
  


But she’s not. And he’s not.

  
  


He is not stupid or insensible to the fact that he had messed up; pushed Elizabeth too far, too fast. That’s why she shot him, he knows. Had he not kidnapped her and put a gun in her hand and forced her to choose between him _-standing, yelling at her, calling her a bitch, an immediate threat to her-_ and Turner _-bound and gagged and bloody-_ they could have gone on forever without her ever harming him. Or so Rio thinks, anyway. 

  
  


He had just assumed she would choose him like he had been choosing her. He sniggers. _Pathetic, Rio._

  
  


But then again, he had called her “work” a short while before that, and blackmailed her and been an absolute asshole to her. He thinks calling her “work” more than anything else had hurt her feelings and made her mad. He remembers being unable to look at her when he said it. He had looked away; afraid that she would see the anger and hurt in his eyes and they would give the lie to his words; afraid to see the anger and hurt in her own when he said it; or even worse, afraid that there would be _no_ anger or hurt when he said it. 

  
  
  


And so he had been stupid. He had been stupid because _his_ feelings had been hurt and he had been acting out because of it. _She_ had hurt him when she had kicked him out of her bed and put the money on the dresser like…. He flinches at the memory, grits his teeth. So yes, she had hurt him even though he would rather die than admit that to anyone. It’s hard enough admitting it to himself. 

  
  
  


So _Yeah_ … he _had_ wanted to hurt her feelings and make her mad; he had been sure that it would be preferable to the cold indifference that had been on her face when she walked away from him in her bed and stepped into the shower. Anything would be preferable, he had thought.

But she hadn’t been cold or indifferent. She hadn’t been hurt and ‘ _normal_ ’ mad. She had gone _crazy_ mad; _So fuckin’ mad that she put three slugs in me and went back to her life happy to have done it. Women!_ He rubs his jaw. _Goddamn you, Elizabeth!_

  
  


He stops at a red light; thinks maybe he could check out a couple of other stations. But the lights change; and he thinks that he prefers the silence to being stabbed by words from strangers; strangers who are singing about his life somehow. It’s one thing when Mick does it; it’s quite another when the fuckin’ radio is colluding against him. _Silence or death, thank you!_

  
  


So now, there is the not-so-small issue of his pride. And hers, come to think of it; because she is not the kind of woman who will bend for him. She would rather break and be smashed to dust, he knows. 

  
  
  


Not that he wants her apology. It would be meaningless, as things stand. Because even if she were to somehow make right the fact that she shot him, she can never make right what came after. She fuckin’ left him drowning in his own blood and went back to her kids, her husband - _fuckin’ carman-_ and her life as though everything in the world was just peachy. 

_Nah, she can’t make_ **that** _right_.

  
  


So no, they can’t go back. Even if they go back, it will not be with honeyed-words and kisses. It will be by her fixing what she broke. And her getting back for him what he lost. And her knowing that he is not to be trifled with.

  
  


She doesn’t want his honeyed-words anyway. That’s not how any man will ever hold her; any other woman, yes, but not Elizabeth. The man who keeps her has to see her and know her, and take her with her strength, her weakness, her softness, her ambition, her indecisiveness, her deadliness; take her with all the good, the bad and the utterly fuckin’ ridiculous in her. Take her with it all and swallow it whole… _and like it._ Then want more coz there’s always going to be more.

No, you can’t see it and run from it or hide from it and expect to have her. _Have her? Why am I thinking of having her? Cut it out, Rio,_ he tells himself. 

  
  
  


But here’s the thing; he has always seen her. From the very first time she had walked into her house and found him seated on her kitchen island, with his gun in his hand and a couple of his boys with him; and she had screamed and dropped her groceries; and he had told her to “relax, sweetheart” and call her girls; and she had done as told but she hadn’t cried or pleaded while they waited; he had seen her. 

  
  


He had seen her for what she was; trouble. She was goddamn beautiful and she was fuckin’ trouble and he had fuckin’ loved it.

And then when he came to collect and they were short, she had called him an idiot, to his face and he had fuckin’ loved _that_ too. 

And then she had left him her pearl necklace _-Goddamn, Elizabeth!-_ and he still doesn’t know whether she had intended the innuendo he read into it, but he had driven to her house practically shivering with anticipation and half-hard with it and he had fuckin’ loved it more.

And then she had asked for a job while the pearls burnt a hole in his pocket and he had been stunned; and he had wanted to laugh; and he had been so turned on that he got all the way hard; and he had been thankful for the kitchen island between them; and he had fuckin’ loved it even harder. 

And then he had gone home and locked those pearls up tight in a little wooden box in his nightstand and he had never wanted anything more than her. And then she had let him fuck her while her husband waited a few feet away and he had thought he would never fuckin’ love anything more than that. 

But then she had let him do it again in her bed, her husband’s bed, and she had looked wrecked and happy and at the thought of how many ways he intended to get her wrecked and happy again, he had never been fuckin’ happier in his life. 

And then she pulled the fuckin’ rug and the world had fuckin’ collapsed around them. _Goddamn Elizabeth!_ So now his life is a mess and he has to straighten it out. Starting with her. 

چوچو

For starters, she is rash and Rio can’t trust her farther than he can throw her anymore, and she is not afraid enough; and that shit will get her killed in this business.

  
  


Take her funny money, for instance; her beautiful, near-flawless, just-absolutely-bananas-how-good-it-is funny money that she cooked _herself,_ apparently. She is giving it to Gil who is a coward; a nice guy but still…a fuckin’ coward. That is going to get her caught by the FBI or someone else is going figure out what she is doing and start leaning on her; then she will really be in a mess...or killed. 

_Well, as long as someone has to do the leaning, it might as well be me_ , Rio thinks. 

  
  


_She’s not afraid enough;_ and she has to learn to be and he has got to teach her that lesson; _Fuck!_ He has got to be the one to do it because he would rather she learn it from him that in some other way and at least with him, she will be afraid but at least she will be safe. And if he doesn’t teach her, she might learn it the hard way and maybe end up in jail and bring the whole house of cards down on him; or she might wind up dead; and that would make him come undone and maybe it would fuckin’ kill him. 

  
  


So he’ll have to make her and maybe he’ll have to unmake her several times over but that’s alright. _Christ!_ He hopes it turns out alright and she understands what he is doing and why he is doing it; because at least with him, she’ll be safe even when she is fuckin’ afraid…of him. _Again._

  
  


That’s a problem though because he thinks it might turn out that she is only afraid of _him_ and not afraid of the business they’re in. And while right now, he needs her to be afraid of him, he would rather she just respected him instead of being afraid…and when he’s home alone, he hates thinking about her and knowing how afraid of him she is; _and maybe she even hates me_ ; it’s killing him inside. But more than anything, he’s scared of having to kill her. 

  
  


Anyway, she’s got to learn and so he has got to do the teaching even if it fuckin’ kills him; and he messed up and brought this all on himself; and he still has an out right now; she’s still pregnant and he knows in his bones that that’s his baby inside of her. So now is the time to instill that fear; in the next couple of days while she’s still pregnant and he still has a reason to not kill her; before she gets on with it and isn’t pregnant anymore; and he won’t have an excuse to tolerate her drama. 

Rio sighs. _Maybe she’ll get with the program quick so that I don’t have to kill her later._

  
  


He clicks; it’s a long and wistful sound. Because maybe for her and the baby, he would even have been willing to lose the whole fuckin’ kingdom but goddamn it, she’s not keeping it. Yes, he would have fought like hell to keep her and the baby _and_ the kingdom, but if he couldn’t he would have chosen her and the baby and Marcus and just got out of the game. But she’s not keeping it. And sometimes his eyes get hot and tight and he wishes he were little so he could just cry about it and move on but he doesn’t have the luxury of tears. _Aaaaargh! Get a fuckin’ grip, Rio!_

  
  


He thinks back to the time when he was little and no one had started calling him Rio yet. His mama used to call him by his middle name; _Arroyo_ . He smiles wistfully. _Arroyo;_ It means creek or small river in Spanish. No one calls him that now. He grew up; and his grandpa started calling him Rio –a large river- and it just stuck. _Christ! I could use a day-pass back to that Time._ He shakes his head; _No such luck. Now we’re all grown-up with real fuckin’ grown-up problems._

  
  


And now he doesn’t even want to have a drink because every time that he does, someone _-Mick-_ unintentionally says something that twists the knife in a little deeper in his chest; or says something that sounds like Fate whispering in his ear. He’s never been superstitious but he’s been feeling Fate breathing down his neck lately and there’s no comfort to be had. _Goddamnit. I would die for you Mick; but you have got to stop calling Fate down on me; Fuck!_ he thinks to himself.

  
  


Anyway, so now Rio feels like the servant of the merchant of Baghdad, who jostled by death, and scared by a threatening gesture that Death makes, rides away from Baghdad to the city of Samarra. Confronted by the merchant, Death says that she was not threatening the servant. Death was simply surprised to see the servant in Baghdad because she had an appointment with him in Samarra later that night. 

Yes, Rio feels just like that hapless servant; he is riding to his Fate and it cannot be escaped. He hates the feeling.

  
  
  


And he is starting to hate their bar too; the good memories from years and years are getting stifled by the press of all the Elizabeth-memories; just the _one_ Elizabeth-memory to be honest; the one where she told him she isn’t keeping the baby.

  
  


Anyway, all this wishing is just an exercise in futility; actions have consequences and you just have to face the consequences and clean up the mess you made. Elizabeth doesn’t know that; she’s rash and she just jumps straight into things without an exit plan or contingencies and she just fuckin’ does the thing _–he loves that part-_ but she doesn’t finish it and that’s going to get her and maybe him killed; if he doesn’t have to kill her first. He’s fuckin’ scared he’ll have to kill her. 

Also, he already tried dying once before and he didn’t fuckin’ love it. So he’s not about to try it again. The rain is letting up; _Fuck!_ He doesn’t want to but he speeds up just the same and switches to his low beams. 

  
  


Yeah, _actions…fuckin’ consequences_. She has to learn that. And he had thought that he has enough steel in his spine for both of them but he’s starting to think maybe he needs to put the steel in her spine too; she has got to learn to finish what she starts…or she will never be safe and if she dies from something he could have prevented, he’ll come undone. 

  
  


He comes to a STOP sign. He has a memory; of her in the dead of night, putting up a stolen STOP sign with a power drill; tears in her eyes and a crack in her voice when she said, “I can’t hide; not from you…I’m just so tired…”

 _Maybe I’m just too tired to keep lying…maybe you’re all I ever wanted;_ there goes that song in his head again. Rio sighs, rubs his jaw.

  
  
  


“…Are you going to kill me?” Elizabeth had asked him.

Rio remembers pushing her hair out of her face and telling her, “I’m going to teach you.” 

He scoffs, _Well, I didn’t do a great fuckin’ job of that, did I?_

  
  


_Goddamn, Elizabeth!_ This isn’t a game like she seems to think it is; this is war. There are sides and factions she has no clue about and that he hopes she never has to learn about. And there’s a kingdom at stake and she nearly brought it down, and it was really hard won and it can’t be lost.

  
  


And every day since he got back has been like a fuckin’ fire because when he was out of commission, supply lines dried and deals fell through; and old associates are afraid to work with him now; and suddenly he owes people he hasn’t owed in years; and the vultures are circling and he’s having to straighten people out who haven’t so much as talked back at him in a decade. And now they all think they can take a piece of his life’s blood, sweat and tears. So _yeah, fear, actions, consequences, steel. No time to play._

  
  


“We’re not here to play. We’re here to win, bitch.” Elizabeth had thrown his words back at him once. And he had wanted to laugh at her or kiss that mouth and bury his nose in her hair and bite her neck. He can’t help the sudden rush of heat between his legs. It leaves him half-hard.

…I remember every taste

If I get a little wasted... 

“Yeah, sweetheart. I ain’t here to play, darling. I’m here to fuckin’ win,” he whispers to himself. 

The whole fuckin’ kingdom.

And eventually,

_Her. Preferably._

If she’d only let him.

چوچو

He parks the car and checks his watch; 10.23pm. Time tends to go wonky around her. 

He is thinking of her strawberry-blonde curls and the scent of cherry blossoms when he steps out of the car and into the _Paper Porcupine_.

  
  



	6. Show Me Yours or I'll Show You Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her sweet, lying mouth opens; she feigns ignorance. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” He is irritated but is prepared to make a concession; it could have gone worse. She could have pulled out any of the anniversary or birthday cards on display and shown him those. He almost grins; he would have killed her then for sure, he thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry, it's so short today. Tomorrow's installation will be longer. And we are getting to the good stuff soon: the heavier chapters with more... doing.  
> 😘😘

**_Show Me Yours_ ** _or_ **_I’ll Show You Mine_ **

Hey, now.” She is disconcerted to hear him. To see him. 

“I don’t have it all right now, okay?” She moves to put a table between them. It’s a strange thing to see; how she tries to hide behind the table as if it could possibly keep her safe from him. Still, Rio puts up his hands, palms out; surrenders. He didn’t come here for that; not for the hundred grand. Not tonight anyway. 

  
  
  


It is odd seeing her with a nametag on; _Beth_ . He thinks, _Nah, ma. Elizabeth._ That’s what the tag should read. Then he reconsiders and decides that maybe it’s accurate. _Beth_ ; that’s her disguise, isn’t it? The name she hides behind. The mask that lets people underestimate her but tonight, he needs Elizabeth, not Beth. _I always need Elizabeth._ He shakes his head.

  
  
  


‘I’m just here for some custom printing. Word is _you_ do the best work. I’d like to see how it’s done.” He puts some emphasis on the word _you_ . He wants her to know he knows. Maybe then, things will go easier. He nearly scoffs; _Easier? With Elizabeth?_ Since when has she ever made anything easier for him? 

  
  
  


Her sweet, lying mouth opens; she feigns ignorance. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” He is irritated but is prepared to make a concession; it could have gone worse. She could have pulled out any of the anniversary or birthday cards on display and shown him those. He almost grins; he would have killed her then for sure, he thinks. His temper is not quite the even-keeled thing it used to be. Feigning ignorance is manageable; much better than actively goading him. And _Christ!_ She’s always known just which buttons to push.

  
  
  


Rio drops a tenner on the table. “Your _friend_ …says you do.” 

She freezes; makes that deer-in-the-headlights face. Her eyes seem to _grow_ in her face. _Fuck! It’s sort of beautiful._ He has to remind himself not to fall into them.

  
  
  


“I wanna see.” His voice is bland, conversational, matter of fact as though it’s a foregone conclusion that she will comply. Of course, she will comply. She will try to wiggle out of it, but she can’t very well argue with the muzzle of a gun, right? He hopes it doesn’t come to that. he hopes he doesn’t have to show her the gun; brandish it at her.

“Well…” her mouth twists. 

_Here comes the lie…any time now,_ Rio thinks. 

“…he’s got it wrong,” she says. 

  
  
  


He literally watches the lie form then leave her mouth. _Can’t lie to me, mama._ _And while we’re on the subject of lies,_ he thinks, _why do you even bother?_ She knows that he knows. So what’s the point of this? Why even put up a fight? 

Suddenly, he is bone-tired; he doesn’t like it. He has been swinging between weariness and anger really fast these days. He needs a vacation with Marcus; _as if!_ Not when the sky is still fuckin’ falling about his ears; _thank you, Elizabeth._

  
  
  


He tries to shake off the weariness; he can’t. He always comes into these Elizabeth-situations hoping that things will be easy enough. _Why do I do that though?_ This is _Elizabeth_ ; _things are always going to be like this. She’s never going to make anything easy._ He swears he could tell her that her hair is blonde not auburn and she would fight him on it. _Christ! She’s fuckin’ relentless._

  
  
  


_That must be why her marriage is so godawful; she’s just so fuckin’ exhausting._

He feels the shame and regret immediately; he knows how uncharitable that thought was. _Sorry, mama. That ain’t fair._

  
  
  


He knows her marriage isn’t a mess because of her. He knows _Fuckin’ Carman_ has done more to destroy it than Elizabeth could do in a handful of lifetimes. Come to think of it, it’s probably why things are so bad for them; she had put with or been blind to _Carman_ ’s mess for so long that he hadn’t ever felt the need to do the decent thing. Rio knows that she had made herself smaller for _Carman_ ’s comfort; so small that the dumbass had lost all respect for her. That pisses Rio off. Then he shrugs; it’s not his business.

  
  


20 years of being a doormat; _Fuck! That can’t have been easy._ Then she had had enough. _Nah, that ain’t right either._ She’s still putting up with that dumbass, isn’t she? Keeping a roof over his sorry head despite all the mess he had created? For fuck’s sake, the only reason Elizabeth is in this situation is because of the mess created by her husband. Yet she is still propping up his ego and protecting him from the consequences of his actions? 

  
  
  


_Goddamn, Elizabeth!_ No, she wouldn’t even fight back against Turner or take out Boomer…or any of her rotten eggs. _But she won’t stop fighting me even when it’s futile,_ he thinks. _Aaaaaaaargh!_ _And now we’re going to fight about this, for real?_ He thinks that if he so much as gives a chance, she will come at him. Teeth snapping, blue eyes flashing, claws bared… _guns blazing;_ his mind veers sharply away from that thought. He has a flashback of her firing on him; 

_Bang…Bang… Bang._ He wants to rub his chest; it hurts.

  
  


_Goddamn, Elizabeth! She has gone and grown a spine just for me_ , he thinks. Suddenly he doesn’t know what to do with that thought; _just for me._ He doesn’t want to examine it too closely. _For me…for me._ The thought echoes. He shifts from leg to leg, suddenly uncomfortable. His jeans feel snug; _What the hell is this even? For fuck’s sake, when did I become a teenage boy_? He is thankful for the table between them.

  
  
  


“Show me.” He pulls out his gun, cocks it, places it on the table; his finger resting close to the trigger. It’s a bluff; he is not about to shoot her tonight but she doesn’t know that. He has been feeling a bit murderous towards her anyway; _getting shot 3 times and left in a pool of your blood will throw your emotions out of whack, amiright?_ She won’t be surprised if his feelings are a bit frazzled; if his composure is a bit frayed around the edges. So he lets that homicidal feeling in his chest leak into his expression.

  
  
  


She caves. 

After that, Time runs away from him. 

  
  
  



	7. Midas in Her Velvet Glove   (or)  That Old Familiar Groove

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He sits across the room from her and watches her. Watches her make her money.
> 
> A familiar conversation plays in his head. He has replayed it so many times before. Now it feels like a much-loved record that’s been playing on repeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't have written this without MissTricey. 😘😍 I hope this comes close to what you felt Brio felt. 
> 
> I was paralyzed with fear trying to put into words that absolutely heart-wrenching El-musgo scene where Beth makes the money and Rio watches her. 
> 
> Just absolutely paralyzed. I hope I didn't make a total hash of it. 
> 
> So please Dear Reader,  
> lemme know in the comments if this matches what you think Brio felt in that scene.
> 
> 😘😘
> 
> Ps: one more chapter in the next 12 hours or so. Rio/Mick and THE bar. 
> 
> Just because Santa said y'all have been so nice and those who've been naughty have still been so naughty in so many nice ways. 
> 
> Happy Holidays. 😘😘

**_That Old Familiar Groove/ Midas in her Velvet Glove _ **

“Show me.” He pulls out his gun, cocks it, places it on the table; his finger resting close to the trigger. It’s a bluff; he is not about to shoot her tonight but she doesn’t know that. So he lets that homicidal feeling in his chest leak into his expression.

Elizabeth caves. 

After that, Time runs away from him. 

  
  


**چوچو**

Rio follows her into the back room of the paper porcupine. 

  
  


He sits across the room from her and watches her. Watches her make her money. Watches her wash the dollar bills; shred them; put them in the blender; make the mulch. As the blender whirrs, the word _Chef_ pops unbidden into his mind. Yeah…that’s what he’s looking at; her using her skillset to best advantage. Seriously, he’s got to taste that apple pie that Marcus just won’t let up about. _How to do that though…?_

  
  
  


_Is there anything she can’t teach herself how to do?_ He thinks of her at the dealership; taking over a failing business from her husband and turning it around; turning it into money for Rio and herself. _She gets up and just does the damn thing_ ; he likes that about her. _Nah!_ He fuckin’ loves it. He remember how angry he had been when she had taken his pharmacy from him and held it over his head…and made money from that too. And now look at her; _literally_ making money! Look at her; taking one dollar and turning it into ten; twenty; fifty; a hundred.

 _She’s fuckin’ Midas…but with the_ **_green_ ** _, not the_ **_gold_ ** _._

  
  
  


He starts to think that Mick was right; she’s like something even he’s never seen before. _Something else. Something different._ Mick had been circumspect enough to leave the _something special_ unsaid between them. But Rio had heard it anyway. 

Elizabeth seems more comfortable now. Less jumpy. Almost like she’s happy doing what she’s doing. 

  
  


The thought recurs; _Is there anything you can’t do, mama?_ A laundry list of things of things she really sucked at plays in his head;

Couldn’t get rid of her rotten eggs,

Couldn’t kill Turner,

Couldn’t even let Rio get her money back from those kids who robbed her dumbass husband,

Couldn’t kill me. He squirms. _She tried to, though. You really tried to, mama. Sheer dumb luck that it didn’t take._ His chest aches. Can’t ever let her see that though; the ache in his chest.

  
  
  


Couldn’t even get rid of one body properly. He almost laughs thinking of her burying it in her flower bed. _Who the fuck came up with that brilliant idea? Annie? Yeah… I can totally picture them; sitting in her kitchen drinking bourbon and deciding, “Yes. The fuckin’ flower bed is just the place._ He bites back a smile. _Just a bunch of dumb bitches,_ Gil had said _._ Rio grins.

  
  


Then he remembers how fuckin’ crazy she had gone when he sold her out to Turner about that body. _She put three slugs in me for that, Fuck! I shoulda just got Demon to bury that body._

  
  


Yes. Rio is starting to see it; unprovoked violence is not her thing. _Violence_ is not her thing; **_it’s_** **_mine_** **,** he thinks. He would quite comfortably put a bullet in anyone who crossed him if the circumstances demanded it. And be cold-blooded about it too. Elizabeth can’t do that. He’s starting to see that now. But if you push her up against a wall… well, then all bets are off!

 _Up against a wall…_ he has a flashback. Of her up against a wall. Of him fucking fast and rough into her… _Christ! The sounds she made for me._

  
  
  


He puts his gun down on the table. Shifts in his seat. Locks his long hands in front of him. Hopes she can’t see it; his hard-on. _Christ!_ He is so fuckin’ hard. The blender is quiet now and Elizabeth is doing something to the pulp; spreading it out.

  
  
  


He tries to recover his train of thought. _Violence._ He is the violence between them; _the corded steel hidden in silk._ She is the soft touch between them; _my own personal Midas in a velvet glove._ _We could have been so good together, mama._ He’s feeling wistful. Hard for her and wistful. That’s a dangerous combination. A recipe for trouble. 

  
  
  


He is letting himself _remember_ and that’s dangerous. 

He is letting himself _forget_ and that’s dangerous too. 

But that’s because right now, he’s looking at the best of her, he thinks. 

And it’s sucking him in and now he’s wishing.

For… _things._

 _Things I can’t fuckin’ have again,_ he reminds himself. 

And yet he’s still wistful. 

Hard for her and wistful. 

It’s a dangerous combination; a recipe for trouble. 

  
  
  


And so it’s the absolute worst Time for her to say, “Pulp’s gotta dry now.”

“Okay.”

“Takes a while.” Her mouth twists a little. _What’s that about?_ he wonders. He chalks it down to her anxiety; maybe she’s feeling exposed now that her hands are not busy? Like that day in the bedroom when her socks had been different. Her sweet mouth had twisted then too.

He almost smiles. “I got Time.” 

  
  
  


And Elizabeth shivers slightly, because she has seen that almost-smile and his voice is different; not hard or cold; but low, gravelly, warm…like Rio from _Before_. 

  
  


_The Rio_ who _wanted_ her. 

_The Rio_ who smashed cars out of jealous rage for her. 

_The Rio_ who pushed her hair out of her face under STOP signs and said, “I’ll teach you” 

\--how to use a gun, how to kill someone—

like a promise, a reassurance, a comfort wreathed with the thrill of danger and death while they stood on dark streets in the dead of night and breathed each other’s breath. 

_The Rio_ who shot Dean to punish her then fucked her against the wall while Dean waited for her.

_Oh, god! He’s got Time!_ Why does she want to throw herself at Rio and have him kiss her like he did in her bedroom? And then have him do again what he did to her then? _There’s enough Time for that while the pulp dries._

  
  
  


Elizabeth’s hands are shaky; she hopes he can’t see it. 

Her mouth is dry; she’s thirsty… _for him._

Her nipples are hard; they get more taut every time the apron rubs against them. Hard… _for him._

She aches between her legs; an empty, hollow, unfilled, unfulfilled, unsatisfied ache _Rio_ knows exactly how to make better; She aches… _for him._

She wants _…_

She wants.

Him.

She looks away. Starts clearing up.

He hears himself. _I got Time._ For her? Yes. _Absolutely, yes!_ _That’s stupid,_ he tells himself. _So stupid. A recipe for disaster… But dammit, disaster would feel so good right now. Disaster on top of that table. Elizabeth naked but for the apron…_ He shudders. He is so hard.

  
  


But still he just sits and watches her. Watches her and tries to wrap his head around this… around _her_ . Elizabeth; _self-taught master-chef. What the fuck even? How?_ Yet it’s just crazy enough of an idea to suit her exactly right. 

  
  
  


And he thinks that it’s as though he’s seeing her again for the first Time. Like every time he had thought he could see her, he’s really just been looking at the reflection of a mask of herself that she had held up to him in a smoky hall of mirrors. And he had been fooled into believing that what he saw was really her. 

  
  
  


And if Rio couldn’t see her clearly yet, _fuckin’ carman_ hadn’t had a hope in hell of seeing through her disguise to everything she was; everything she could be. No one could accuse her dumbass husband of being perceptive. 

  
  
  


For fuck’s sake, Carman had been squaring up the check while Rio was holding her up against a wall. _Up against a wall…_ His cock twitches in his jeans; throbs out his heartbeat.

_Beth… Bethie,_ her husband calls her. It makes Rio want to gag. _Elizabeth;_ that’s who she is underneath that disguise. _And I don’t even know her yet._

  
  
  


A familiar conversation plays in his head. He has replayed it so many times before. Now it feels like a much-loved record that’s been playing on repeat. He dusts it off; sets down the stylus in that old familiar groove. The sound of their voices in the Time _Before_ ; familiar, missed, yearned for, haunting. He knows every word of their every song. But each Time he listens, he hears new meanings. New heartstrings stir. 

  
  


“I’m giving you the keys to the kingdom here.”

“Why? Why me?” Elizabeth’s voice had been uncertain; like she didn’t see what he saw every Time he looked at her. 

“I think you could be something,” Rio had told her.

“I don’t want to be something.” 

  
  
  


“No? What do you want to be, then? Fireman? Astronaut?” His smugness had asked, sure he knew the answer; _a boss bitch; a fuckin’ queen for my kingdom_. 

“A good person,” her voice from behind her mask.

“Nah. You’re way more interesting than that.” His smug, smug, deluded arrogance had said to her. 

“You don’t know me,” her _sweet, sweet lying mouth_ for once telling him the truth from behind the mask.

“I think I do,” the sound of his hubris deceiving him. 

  
  
  


Because he hadn’t known her. Yet. He hadn’t seen her. Yet. He’d just _thought_ he had.

 _Well, I can see you now, darling!_ he thinks. Then with a fierceness in his chest; _And the view… is fuckin’ glorious._

  
  
  


“What do you think?” Her voice is uncertain again; like she doesn’t see what he sees every Time he looks at her.

_What do I think?_ He thinks she’s _Elizabeth._ Not just any other woman but _The Woman_ . The one who steals from him, and sells him out to the FBI and fucks him over, and then fucks him, and then almost kills him, and breaks his kingdom apart, and gets pregnant with his baby, and decides not to keep it and breaks his fuckin’ heart and then presents the means to unbreak his broken kingdom…and maybe his fuckin’ heart...someday. And still lives to talk about it. _Goddamn, Elizabeth!_

That’s what he thinks. 

  
  
  


But also, he thinks that he’s just barely begun to scratch the surface of her. And he’s already lost so fuckin’ much. And every day with her, he’s losing something else; _whomp, whomp, whomp, whomp, whomp._ His chest aches so bad. And he doesn’t want to think anymore because right now, he’s thinking _feelings_ not _thoughts_. 

  
  
  


And she is close enough that he can smell the money in her hands but also her hair - _cherry blossom._ He inhales. And he thinks he heard tears threatening to leak into her voice. He hates it when she cries; it makes him go all soft inside and makes him want to touch her, step closer to her so she can feel the heat off his body, hold her, push back her hair, tell her he will fix it. He hates it. He thinks he wants to do it now. He wants to take one step; just one tiny step right up to her so she can feel him, warm against her body. That's all he needs to do; take just one small step so she can feel him. He thinks he wants to make her remember how good it felt _Before._ He thinks he wants to make her forget how it hurts now.

And he thinks _she’s_ _Elizabeth. Mine._

And he wants _… things._

 _Things I can’t fuckin’ have again,_ he reminds himself. 

  
  
  


So he hardens his voice when he answers her but the truth still leaks out in his words, “I think I need you alive.”

  
  


He walks out into the night and checks his watch; Time tends to go wonky around her; 1.26 am. 

3 hours and 3 minutes; it felt like an hour and a half. Time is just fuckin’ meaningless around her.

  
  


_I think I_ **_need_ ** _you alive, Elizabeth._

_I think I **need** you. _

_I need **you**._

_Fuck!_


	8. The Man, All in Black; He Rides a Pale Horse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mick really tries to hold Rio off. Not for the hundred grand in funny money that Mrs. B promised him. But because he really thinks he is starting to like her; a lot. She’s spunky as hell and he can totally see why Rio got himself caught up in that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Reader,
> 
> Thank you for sticking with this story. And for all the comments and kudos. Can't thank you enough: it really hypes me to keep writing.
> 
> 😘😘

**_The Man, All In Black; He Rides A Pale Horse_ **

Mick really tries to hold Rio off. Not for the hundred grand in funny money that Mrs. B promised him. But because he really thinks he is starting to like her; a lot. She’s spunky as hell and he can totally see why Rio got himself caught up in that. She’s something special.

And plus, Mick thinks he likes Mrs. B because he remembers how Rio had been when he met her; in the Time _Before_ she shot him. Rio had been more animated, more alive somehow, and the closest to happiness that Mick had ever seen him. 

  
  


Then she shot Rio and the spark left his eyes. Now Rio is only ever happy when he’s with Marcus. Even then though, something’s different; something’s missing; like eating your favourite pie from your favourite place and finding that the pastry chef today forgot something; one of the spices is missing. The pie is still good; it’s just _not the same_. Something’s missing. Rio is like that now. 

  
  


But now _she_ ’s having Rio’s baby. Mick hopes the light will come back when the baby is born; maybe then Rio will be able to forgive her. He thinks that’s why Rio sends _him_ not anyone else to Mrs. B; it’s a trust thing. She’ll be safe with Mick…unless Rio tells him to kill her off. Then there will be all kinds of trouble. 

And he’s worried that trouble is here now because Rio already made it clear that she’s got debts to pay and she has to deliver. And she didn’t deliver. Yeah, trouble is here.

  
  


So Mick really tries to hold Rio off; and if this were about anything else, Mick would have got away with it too. But where Mrs. B is concerned, Rio is like a dog with a fuckin’ bone. His hackles are raised and he just won’t let it go. 

  
  


Rio is seated at the bar when Mick walks in. Same place, every Time. Mick walks up, starts to say hello. Rio cuts him off. “Where’s the money, Mick?”

Mick hesitates. “It’s coming,” he finally says; he sounds a bit defeated. He knows he’s lost right out of the gate. “I’m going to get it tomorrow or…you know.” He waves a hand about uncertainly.

  
  


“Yeah?” Rio says. He’s got _the voice_ on; the voice that Mick hates. The one that on the surface sounds calm and almost reassuring. But if you listen close, well…you can hear the edge of crazy in it. _Like shards of glass in a silk glove;_ don’t put your hand in it. Mick hates that voice. That voice is the calm before the storm; the thing you hear right before Rio goes off. And now Rio is using that voice on him. 

  
  


Mick clears his throat. “Yeah, I’m on it tomorrow morning. It’s all good.”

“Yeah?” He doesn’t give mick a chance to respond. He just swivels in his seat and looks Mick dead in the eye. “So why’d you hesitate, Mick?”

  
  


Mick rubs a hand over his mouth and strokes his beard. That more than anything pisses Rio off; because Rio knows that gesture. That’s Mick trying to soothe and calm himself. So what’s Mick got to be unsettled about?

Rio waits him out. Mick’s voice is off when he speaks; a bit too firm. Rio hears it, knows exactly what it means; that’s Mick putting on a show of bravado. But there’s nothing behind that bravado. Mick will cave and fess up to whatever is going on soon enough. 

  
  


“The press is broken, man. Needs servicing. It’s all good. They’re servicing it.” “It’s all good,” he repeats."

Rio sniggers. “All good? Yeah? So why’d you say that three times in half the minutes?” Mick knows what’s coming. _Fuck!_

Rio continues, “See, it ain’t all good until that money’s here, is it?” Mick swallows hard. “So why don’t you tell me what I gotta do to get answers from you?”

  
  


Mick sighs, sounds defeated. “She said the press needs to be serviced. It will take a couple of days. That’s why they’re late. That’s really what she said.” He falters then, “It’s just that she seemed afraid…kinda desperate.”

Rio frowns. “And _there it is_ …It’s really not the press, is it?” Mick keeps quiet. He knows Rio is not really asking. “See, Mick, I think I gave you a job, yeah? And she didn’t deliver and you know what you got to do with that, don’t you?” Mick stays silent. Rio turns back to him. 

  
  


“Don’t you?” Rio’s voice is deathly quiet. Mick remembers a poem he once read by a poet called Rory Duce. 

_From the depths of despair along the road to nowhere,_

_Waits a man dressed all in black._

_He rides a pale horse and he shows no remorse_

_for the evil he’s there to enact…_

  
  


Rio’s voice has gone so chillingly quiet that Mick finds himself holding his breath for what is coming. “What’d she say to you to get you to not do the job I asked you to do, Mick?”

_… he searches the dark, where no light can spark_

_any hope into a depressed mind_

_He’s the devil reincarnate, there to obliterate_

_Those of us who fall behind…_

“She offered me a hundred grand, Rio.” The words are torn out of Mick. He clears his throat, squares his shoulder. This shouldn’t be going this badly. On any other day, about anything else, Mick would have been matter-of-fact about this conversation. He wouldn’t have been hesitating or cowing. He would have walked right up to Rio and just told him how things were; including the offer of the hundred grand. And it wouldn’t have bothered Rio at all; so it would not have bothered Mick. 

  
  


But now Mick is anxious because he knows this is about Mrs. B; and when it comes to her, Rio is a loaded gun with a hair-trigger about to go off. And Mick feels like he is watching the gun fall in slow-motion; petrified with the horror and utterly helpless to stop it. And he is worried that upon impact, the gun will go off and the slug is headed straight for Mrs. B and he, Mick is in the way.

  
  


Rio leans back in his seat, “Is that right? Hundred grand to betray me, huh?

“It ain’t like that, Rio. Fuck! It ain’t like that, at all. It’s not the money.” He is speaking too fast now. He can hear himself; he sounds like every guy that he and Rio have hauled up into this bar when those guys had screwed with Rio. He takes a breath. “It ain’t like that, Rio.”

  
  


Mick sighs, tries again. “There ain’t nothing you ever asked me to do in the last 12 years since you became boss that I ever said ‘No’ to, Rio.”

“Except this now, huh? For a hundred Gs. That your price, Mick, all this Time?”

_…You may be strong or weak, bold or meek,_

_It really matters not…_

_For if he’s hunting for you, know this to be true,_

_Your life can be bought._

**_The price_ ** _won’t be gold;_

  
  


“Rio, man! It ain’t like that at all.” Rio raises an eyebrow. “I don’t think I can do this though, Rio.”

_…it’s the values you hold that will determine your fate…_

_If you sell out your soul,_

_he will devour you whole and then it will be too late…._

  
  


“Nah, uh. Don’t Rio me now.” 

Mick hustles on; it’s obvious he has decided to say his piece. “It’s _her_ , man! It’s _her_.”

“What the fuck does that mean, Mick?” Rio is on his feet now, his drink pushed aside.

“It’s _her_ . She’s _her_. I don’t want to do that, man. And I don’t think you want me to do it; I think it should be you.”

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?” Rio’s jaw is clenched tight, a muscle tics. Mick meets his gaze and shivers. Rio’s eyes are flint. Cold and hard and deathly.

  
  


“She’s yours,” Mick pushes on. His voice is barely audible. “It’s personal, yeah?” He sounds strangled. He braces for what’s coming but he’s not fast enough because Rio is shoving him and Mick is stumbling backward into the wall. Rio’s still coming.

Mick puts up his arms; palms out. Surrender. Rio stops. Barely. His fist hits the wall, right next to Mick’s face. Mick flinches with his eyes but doesn’t move.

  
  


“Rio, you’ve got me up against the wall. _Me,_ Rio. This ain’t you. You’re different, man. Where Mrs B’s concerned, you’re like a Rio I ain’t never seen before. This ain’t you at all.”

Rio takes a step back. He puts both hands on his head, locks his fingers together. He’s feeling angry. He forces himself to calm down. He shouldn’t be mad at Mick. It’s _not_ Mick that he’s mad at; it’s Elizabeth. _Goddamn, Elizabeth! She just has to make everything harder than it already is._ Mick is still talking.

  
  


“If you tell me to go and deal with her, I’ll go and do it right now. But I hope you don’t, Rio. because I know it will be wrong for _me_ to be the one to do it and I know one day you’ll regret it…and one day you’ll hate yourself for it…and hate me too. And I think that’s why you send me to her, Rio. ‘cause deep down, you know if she fucks up, I won’t kill her. I won’t even hurt her. And I’ll never disrespect her.”

  
  


Rio runs his hand over his head, breathes out a sigh. _What the…? When did every conversation with Mick turn into therapy? Fuck!_ He steps back from Mick, sits back at the bar and looks into his drink. He doesn’t want it. He’s got to admit that Mick’s right…about everything. _Fuck!_ When had Mick become his therapist? 

“I’m sorry, Mick,” he says quietly. 

“Ain’t no thang,” Mick returns.

 _Yeah,_ Rio thinks. _I do trust Mick with her life. I’ve got to go kill her myself._ It’s a strange thought; a complete contradiction of purpose. But it is what it is. 

  
  


And Mick remembers,

_…My advice, my friends; is to make amends,_

_for any wrongs done in your past_

_But don’t delay; make things right today,_

_as the pale horse runs fast._

**چوچو**

  
  
  
  


**Credit** :

**He Rides A Pale Horse by Rory Duce.**

-One of my favourite poems of all time-

https://allpoetry.com/poem/1919831-He-Rides-A-Pale-Horse-by-Rory-Duce

  
  


Please also see;

**A Pale Horse by Bill Simmons**

https://m.poemhunter.com/poem/a-pale-horse/

(terrifyingly beautiful on a dark and rainy night

and the next chapter title is a line from it.) 

  
  



	9. Elizabeth, Lucy; One She Lives, One She Dies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth POV of Rio killing Lucy.  
> And a flashback to Rio going to town on the neon cheesebucket.

**_Elizabeth, Lucy; One She Lives, One She Dies_ **

In the end, it’s Dean who kills Lucy. He doesn’t mean to do it and he doesn’t even know he has done it. But it’s Dean who kills Lucy; dooms her to her death.

  
  


Yes, Mick had pulled the trigger. Rio had given the order. But Dean killed Lucy just as much as them. Beth doesn’t tell him; she knows he won’t know how to deal with it. He will do something foolish; like try to go to the cops and they will all wind up dead. All except Rio; and he’s the one who needs to die. 

  
  


Beth hates that Lucy died for such a petty reason; Dean’s jealousy. It all feels like such an awful waste. Sure, Dean is allowed to hate the man who beat him up and put a bullet in him and then screwed his wife. But it didn’t have to come to Lucy’s death. Especially considering that Dean has spent their whole marriage sticking his dick in anything in a skirt. It infuriates Beth; the double standard.  _ Dean! _ she huffs to herself.

  
  


Breaking the engravers plate in a fit of rage and jealousy was just so stupid. And Beth can’t quite wrap her head around the fact that Dean was willing to bet her life on the slim chance that Rio ‘loved’ her. That’s the thing that makes Dean crazy; the crazy idea in his head that Rio loves her. And that jealousy almost got her killed. She knows her marriage just took one step closer to its grave.

  
  


“You don’t kill something you love,” Dean had said. She scoffs,  _ As if! _ Rio doesn’t love her. Maybe before she had shot him he could have started to want to love her, but  _ now _ ? No. Rio doesn’t love her. Too much water has passed under the bridge. She had  _ shot _ him three times, for god’s sake. It’s not as though Rio was about to forget that or magically decide to forgive her and get over it. No; she knows she’ll be paying for it the rest of her life. Until he decides to kill her. 

  
  


Beth knows she almost died the night he killed Lucy. There had been a baleful light in his eyes every Time he had looked at Beth. “Maybe  _ you _ don’t need to be involved,” he had thrown her words back at her and she had read the murder in his eyes. Yes, she  _ knows _ that had he been sure that he would find a way to print the money, he would have killed her and Ruby and Annie. 

  
  


_ I told you he won’t kill something he loves. _ Her mouth twists bitterly. He loves one thing and one thing only; his money.  _ Not me, _ she thinks. She hates him for it. 

  
  


So she blames Rio and Mick and Dean. Not necessarily in that order. And herself; herself most of all. She’s the one who started this all; went back to Rio, left him her pearls, slept with him-  _ oh, but that had been so good _ .  _ Why had it been so good? _ -, kicked him out, shot him; started printing after Turner died, dragged Lucy into it and made her a target. And now Lucy is dead. And Rio is alive.  _ He’s unkillable! _ She shudders.

  
  


She had really hoped that Mick would hold Rio off until she could figure out a solution; get a new plate. Well, that had been wishful thinking.  _ We don’t do delays; _ she knows that. God, does she know that! __

  
  


She thinks that maybe there’s more to Rio’s anger than just the press. Since the night she had told him she wouldn’t keep the baby, something about him had been more…visibly violent; less suave; more openly murderous. Maybe he just had had enough of being thwarted by her. 

  
  


_ I’m pregnant _ had been the only words standing between her and her death. Until she had erased them with  _ I’m not keeping it _ . Now, all bets are off and Beth knows it. The next Time she crosses him, he’ll kill her for sure. Maybe even take out Annie and Ruby. She thinks about it; she has to get them to swear not to go to the police even if he kills her. 

There’s only one thing she can’t quite figure out; why he had seemed so furious to find out that it was Lucy who had made the engraver’s plates. He surely didn’t expect her to have been the artist? Even he had made Lucy do the drawing so why be so mad at Beth about that? She decides that he had just needed an excuse to take his anger out on her.  _ I’m the punching bag. I’m always his punching bag, _ she thinks. She hates it, hates  _ him _ .

  
  


She hates everything about him now; even his smile. She had always loved that; so much. Not so now. His smile had had a hint of the crazy right before he killed Lucy. His voice too. She had heard that slightly unhinged note in it; it had set her teeth on edge and reminded her of him smashing the corvette. 

  
  


But she knew why he had smashed the car; he had been angry. Angry and jealous at her still being with Dean. She had read that for what it was; his fit of jealous rage. And it had turned her on. She had felt…wanted. Like he was doing it for her; he wanted her.  _ God! Why are my panties wet now? _ She feels ashamed. 

  
  


And why is he unhinged now? “My girl,” Rio had said to Lucy. But he had been looking right at Beth when he said it. She had met his eyes and squeezed hers shut. He had wanted her to know; he was killing Lucy because of her; in place of her.  _ My girl; _ that was the bell tolling for Lucy. 

  
  


She thinks of Rio driving that tire iron through the window of the neon corvette. 

“You didn’t tell him yet? You didn’t tell him, huh?”

He’d bitten his lip. Shaken his head at her. Smiled at her. The way he smiles when he is trying to leash his fury. When he has been thwarted. His beautiful smile with a hint of the crazy; pain; self-doubt; disappointment. 

“No.” 

  
  
  


“Oh, come on, ma. It’s too goood.” And it had been. And he wanted Dean to know.

_Tell_ ** _him_** _. Hurt_ ** _him._** _Choose_ ** _me._** _Not_ ** _him_** _. Choose_ ** _me_**. It was written all on Rio’s face.

“Don’t,” she’d said…unable to hurt Dean. 

  
  


A silent conversation. Dean aware of the undercurrent between Beth and this,  _ this neck-tatted gangster  _ but still clueless as to the meaning of it. __

Rio’s face to Elizabeth, “ _ So I can’t take you from him, Elizabeth? Huh? Ok. _ ”

Then, “Now I take 30%,” he had said out loud. 

Unspoken between them, “ _ In lieu of you, Elizabeth.” _

And then Dean tried to stand up to Rio who was not about to be thwarted twice. 

  
  


So Rio had gone crazy. His impotent rage, his jealousy, frustration, finding an outlet in taking something from Dean; finding respite in breaking something that belonged to Dean; finding sanity in smashing the car instead of Dean. 

**_30%._ ** _ Tire iron. Through the mirror. Glass shattering. _ Release on his face for a breath. Then jealous rage again; unsatisfied; unresolved. That beautiful smile with the hint of madness. 

**_40%._ ** _ Tire iron. Through the window. Glass shattering. _ Relief on his face for a breath. Then jealous rage again; still unsatisfied; still unresolved. That beautiful smile still with the undercurrent of fury. 

**_50%._ ** _ Tire iron. Through the windshield. Glass shattering _ . Again and again and again. 

  
  


“Stop it! You can have whatever you want. Just stop!” she had screamed at him. He has stopped smashing long enough to have another silent conversation with her. 

_ “Yeah? I can have whatever I want, mama? You?” _

“ **60%?** ” he had asked out loud.

  
  


**_60%?_** _Tire_ _iron. In his hand. The threat of more glass shattering._ Smugness on his face. Jealous rage dissipated; satisfied; resolved. That beautiful smile overlaid with possessiveness. 

“Fine,” she had gritted out. Gritted out but been secretly thrilled. Because yes, he could have whatever he wanted.  _ You can have whatever you want.  _

**60%** in addition to her. 

**60%** besides her. 

**60%** and her. 

The thought echoes…  _ And me …And me. _

  
  


So why is he unhinged now? What has he been thwarted from having? Money? Only money?

_ My girl… My girl _ . She shivers. Why is she so wet? … _ For him?  _

چوچو


	10. Her Sweet, Sweet Lying Mouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why Rio killed Lucy: Rio POV.

**_Her Sweet, Sweet Lying Mouth_ **

_ Midnight lightning in the sky  _

_ Man in black he passes by  _

_ It seems to me he is out of place  _

_ With the look of death upon his face _

\--

_ Did you hear the small child cry _

_ As it took first breath of life _

_ One he lives, and one he dies _

_ As away on a pale white horse he rides _

_ \-- _

**Credit: A Pale Horse by Bill Simmons**

[ **https://m.poemhunter.com/poem/a-pale-horse/** ](https://m.poemhunter.com/poem/a-pale-horse/)

He hadn’t set out to kill Lucy. It just ended up that way. He had meant to finally have at Elizabeth; so he was feeling angsty and on edge when he met Lucy. She was sweet; a really nice girl. Then he found out she was the artist; so he saw his opportunity and he took it. But he couldn’t leave her alive after she had drew the engravers plates. 

He has had too many close shaves since Elizabeth came into the picture. He can’t afford any more loose ends; any more rotten eggs. Still, he hates that he did it.

  
  


Worse still, he hates how fast Elizabeth’s damn mouth goes. She could talk herself into and out of anything; she had talked herself and her sister and her friend right out of the mess she had created. So,  _ Tag! _ Lucy was it. Because unfortunately, someone had to die to teach Elizabeth that he’s not playing anymore; he will brook no further insubordination; he will tolerate no more of her bitch-ass drama. 

_ Fuck! So much drama. _

He has had more drama with her alone than he would have had in five lifetimes without her; mostly because he would not have put up with any such nonsense from anyone else. Anyone else would have been long dead…several times over. 

  
  


And _ Christ! _ It had been one of the hardest things he has ever done to kill that sweet girl. But as he had helped Lucy into the van and listened to Elizabeth practically spitting at him how much he needed her as his chef, he had been livid. 

_ Livid _ at the defiance in her. 

_ Livid and unhinged _ at having to clean up again after her. 

_ Livid and unhinged and ashamed _ at being relieved to not have to kill her. 

_ Livid and unhinged and ashamed and terrified _ that he needed her. 

Not needed her to be the chef; 

But just needed  _ her _ . 

Just  _ her _ . 

_ Her _ .

_ Fuck! _

  
  


“You think they sell that colour at Home Depot?...What if the press gets too hot?...What happens if you add too much water to the mulch?”

Her eyes had been flashing. Her voice had been shaking with fear…but also fury, mutiny, contempt. And he had hated himself for his lack of cojones and let her talk herself out of death once more. And so he had killed Lucy; made Mick kill Lucy. 

  
  


And Mick is still trying to get over it. It’s easy to kill a rival gang-member; or a business partner turned traitor; or an employee who messes up; even a nosy bystander but Lucy had been none of those things. She was just a really sweet, really trusting girl in the wrong place at the wrong Time, dragged into the wrong mess by  _ Elizabeth fuckin’ Boland _ …and Rio. So now Mick is still trying to get over it. 

_ Well, Elizabeth now knows not to mess with me _ ……..he hopes. 

  
  


“Just because she gave you the cookbook to a five-star restaurant doesn’t mean you can make the dishes. You need the chef. You need us. _You need_ _all of us_.” 

Whoops! 

If Elizabeth had only stopped at _you need us_ , Lucy might still be alive. But _Goddamn, Elizabeth!_ She had run her mouth and run it just a little too long; just 5 little words too long. “ _You need_ _all of us”_ and there had been insolence in her voice; and he had just desperately needed to wipe that look off her face forever; had needed to make damn sure the message got through to her:

Screw with me and someone dies. 

It’s you or Lucy, Elizabeth; One lives and one dies. 

Either way, someone dies.

Then he chose.

__

_ My girl _ .

You’re  _ my girl. _

I’m killing her because of  _ you _ , ma. 

I’m killing her so I don’t kill  _ you _ , sweetheart.

I’m killing her because I  _ can’t _ kill  _ you _ , darling.

I’m killing her in lieu of  _ you _ , mama.

I’m killing her  _ for you _ , Elizabeth.

For  _ you _ , Elizabeth.

You’re  _ my girl. _

_ My girl.  _

  
  


And I will tolerate  _ no more _ of your bitch-ass drama, mama.

So yeah, now Lucy is dead.

And he is ashamed that he is relieved.

And he feels like he is walking the knife-edge of his sanity.

_ Goddamn, Elizabeth and her sweet, sweet fuckin’ mouth. _

_ My girl. _

  
  


**چوچو**


	11. Twist the Knife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth just wants to run away to a place that feels safe.
> 
> Rio just hates making her cry: it makes him feel like a bad person.
> 
> The high they're both chasing.... They can't seem to get it quite right.

**_Twist The Knife_ **

**Beth** : _I just wanna run away; Find somewhere that feels safe_

_Find somewhere the bad days; Don’t come as often as in this sad phase_

_Somewhere I can be loved; Where I don’t have to run away from my flaws_

_And I don’t have to be afraid of my thoughts_

_This high, this high that I’m chasing..._

_\--_

_**Rio:**...This high, this high that I’m chasing... _

_Doesn’t have an exit; I don’t learn my lesson_

_I don’t see no endin’ in sight; I don’t feel the best when I try_

_Holding my head up high but it’s not working_

_Making you cry makes me feel like a bad person_

**Mood Music Credit: Chasing (Demo)** by **NF**

It’s drizzling when Rio and Mick pull up to pick up the next drop of Elizabeth’s funny money. Rio puts the car in park; leaves the lights on. Mick steps out of the car; he can do the pickup. So Rio stays in the car and watches Elizabeth. 

  
  


She is lit up by the headlights. Through the drizzle, the lights make a halo of her hair. She looks beautiful; upset; cold. He tells himself he doesn’t need to go out into the rain; but maybe he just doesn’t want to look into her eyes tonight. Maybe he doesn’t want to see the accusation he knows he will find there. Maybe he doesn’t want to see the anger, the pain he will find there. And the tears. He swallows; the eagle on his neck shifts then settles. He hates it when she cries. It makes him want to go all soft; and touch her; push her hair out of her face; hold her; tell her he’ll fix it.

  
  


But they don’t do that anymore. He can’t do that anymore. She doesn’t want him to do it anyway. So he stays in the car.

She doesn’t have the money. Again. _A-fuckin’-gain!_ He steps out of the car and into the rainy night. 

_For fuck’s sake, Elizabeth! How much hurting you do I have to do to get you to stop the drama? How much hurting, darling?_ He is tired of hurting her; it is starting to hurt him. He keeps those feelings off his face; hardens his eyes. 

  
  


He flops onto the bench next to her; far away enough that she gets the message. He’s not here to get cozy with her. This is business. He sighs out a tired breath. He’s just so fuckin’ tired already. Being around her exhausts him. He just wants things to go back to normal so he can take a vacation. He just wants things to go back to normal so he can touch her and just breathe. Breathe her in. Breathe the pain out. 

  
  


“She was a good person.” He hears the tears in her voice. He doesn’t look at her. If he does, he will want to touch her; tell her he’s sorry; tell her he’ll fix it. He can’t do that. He wishes he could. He can’t. _Gotta keep her believing I feel nothing._ Besides, it would be pointless; he didn’t have Lucy killed to then come and be soft to Elizabeth.

“Seemed like a really sweet girl.” His tone is flat; unmoved.

  
  


“You didn’t have to do it. She never would have said anything.”

“Kinda did; a rotten egg is a rotten egg.” He tells her that because he needs her to believe that anyone is dispensable. That even _she_ will become dispensable the moment she becomes a liability. 

  
  


Then Rio sticks the knife in; tells her that Lucy’s death is, “just business, darling.” The knife hits home. She is more upset. They go back and forth. She yells at him; he yells back at her. Mick stands there watching them fight; _it’s a lovers’ quarrel. It always will be. It will never be just business._ He feels bad for them; for how things turned out. He keeps his face blank; it’s not his business.

  
  


Rio tells her that he’ll send Mick to get rid of Lucy’s boyfriend. She’s got to get the printing press running again. He’s got his own debts to pay _. Christ! So many debts._ Debts he owes to people who he hasn’t owed in years. Her eyes are flashing, the helpless rage written on her face. She yells at him more, blames him for the mess. The tears start to slip out of her eyes again. He wants to catch them on his thumb. He buries his hands deeper in his pockets. 

  
  


He sticks the knife in again, “You, me, we…” His eyes are holding her when he shoves it deep and twists, “…it’s just business.” The fight goes out of her; the light goes out of her eyes.

She’ll print his money. 

The lesson is home. 

He walks away. 

Maybe killing Lucy was not for nothing.


	12. Therapy, Therapy Session

**_Therapy, Therapy Session_ **

**Rio:** _ …I thought I’d be happy but I feel like I’m cursed _

_ It’s hard to be clean when you play in the dirt _

_ You gave me this place to go when I’m hurting _

_ I thought it’d get better but it’s getting worse… _

_ \-- _

_ …I get emotional, I didn’t plan this _

_ I’m doing things I never imagined _

_ I’m sorry but I gotta leave  _

_ I don’t wanna be late for my therapy session _

_ \-- _

**Mood Music Credit: Therapy Session Intro 2** by **NF**

**Therapy, Therapy Session** by **NF**

  
  
  


It’s getting so that he can’t have a drink with Mick without it devolving into some sort of spiritual event. 

  
  


So when Rio hears Mick sigh next to him, he rolls his shoulders then resigns himself to what’s coming.

“You’re hitting it pretty hard, Mick.” Rio leans back on the barstool and watches Mick with narrowed eyes. He knows trouble when he sees it and right now he’s looking right at it. 

“It’s only 4 o’clock. Still a long evening ahead, Mick. You wanna slow down a bit, yeah?” 

  
  


Mick shrugs. “You know how it goes.”

“Yeah…” Rio sighs.  _ Trouble. Maybe Lucy? _ Mick pushes his glass away, lets up on how fast he’s going at the drink. Rio’s brow furrows. He has known Mick long enough that he is practically a human barometer for how Mick is feeling and right now, it feels like a storm is coming.  _ Fuck!  _

  
  


Rio wouldn’t have this conversation with any other of his boys except maybe Dags. But Mick is…well, Mick. So when Rio asks, he really means it; Mick would ask him too and he would really mean it. 

“You okay, Mick?”

  
  


Mick nods, shrugs, opens his mouth, nods again, shrugs, drains his glass. 

_ Oh, shit! _ thinks Rio. He refills Mick’s glass but says, “Better slow down a bit, yeah?” Mick doesn’t touch his glass. He nods. There’s a long silence and Rio is starting to relax when Mick says, “She’s got you making mistakes.” 

  
  


Rio’s jaw clenches, he grits his teeth. No prizes for guessing who _ she _ is. He’s really starting to fuckin’ hate this bar. He says nothing; hopes Mick stops talking. 

“She’s got you making really big mistakes.”

Rio rubs his jaw, tries to calm down. “You wanna say something, Mick?”

  
  


“Nah.” Mick shrugs. Just the same, he says, “She was nice. Not too sure we had to do that.”  _ Lucy. _ Rio sighs, wishes he could work up the energy to get annoyed but he just feels tired. And maybe he also thinks that perhaps they didn’t have to do that to Lucy. He  _ knows _ he had to, though. 

So he sighs . “Yeah, she was nice. Rotten eggs though, Mick. You leave them lying around, one day the whole place is a mess.” A long silence ensues. 

  
  


“That’s the thing though. The girl, Lucy, wasn’t your rotten egg.  _ She  _ is. Always has been; always will be.”

Rio feels his hands start to clench.  _ She is. Fuck! _ He doesn’t need this. “Mick, leave it.”

Mick is silent for a minute then he says really quietly, “I just killed a sweet girl ‘cause of Mrs. B.”

  
  


Rio interlaces his fingers on the bar. He’s feeling an insane urge to hit Mick and he would never do that. “Stop talking, Mick.” He adds quietly, “Please.”

Mick bites his lip. Then he says, “Remember the first Time you killed someone to save my life, Rio? We were 21. You’re more than my brother, Rio” 

If Mick is invoking the past, what’s coming is really, really bad. Rio thinks that he doesn’t have the emotional bandwidth for this. “Please don’t Rio me now, Mick. Not about this.”

  
  


It’s futile to hope that Mick will stop. 

“What? I gotta say my piece, Rio. That’s always been our deal.” Mick meets Rio’s eyes; there is a challenge in them but there is something else too; something almost like a plea, “Not unless you want to change it now.”

Rio’s face softens. “I’m listening.”

  
  


To Rio’s mind, Mick then says the worst thing he could possibly say, “Unnecessary blood on my hands.”

Rio explodes. “Do you want me to do my own killing now, Mick? Is that it? Say the word, Mick.” Rio knows he is wrong the moment the words leave his mouth but that’s the thing about words; can’t take them back, can you?

Rio remembers Mick raising a shot of bourbon and saying, "To brothers, Rio; who will kill for you and bleed for you and die with you and for you." _Freely given._ For a moment, Rio feels guilt, overwhelming and crushing on his shoulders. Freely given does not mean putting unnecessary blood on Mick's hands. _Rotten eggs_ , he tells himself. _Needs must, right?_ It's a hard sell. 

  
  


Mick pushes his drink all the way away. “No, that ain’t it, Rio and you know it.” His voice is tired, “I just gotta get it out and who else am I going to tell it to? It’s sitting heavy in my gut.”

Rio takes a long breath. He understands; It’s been sitting heavy in his gut too.  _ Christ! We all need a therapist, _ he thinks.  _ Can’t get one though, can we? _ “Okay, Mick. Get it out.”

  
  


“You’re making mistakes. I know why we did it. ‘cause we can’t kill  _ her _ right? Mrs. B? I get it; I get that it’s love or something or whatever it is between you two.”

Rio laughs, a bitter broken sound. His chest just aches and aches and he feels like his pain is pouring out of his mouth in that sound. He puts his hand up to stop Mick. “Don’t, Mick. Ain’t nothing there.” 

  
  


Mick huffs, “Look, I aint one of the other guys, man. I know she had to stay alive coz she’s the  _ Chef _ ; we all know this and I get it. But I’m also really not stupid, Rio. I  _ know _ that we only killed Lucy ‘cause Mrs. B run her mouth at you. Anyone else would be dead; not  _ her _ though.”

Rio pushes his glass away. It’s still full; he has barely touched his drink since he first poured it. “I’m going to leave, Mick, if you don’t stop talking.” 

  
  


Mick doesn’t. He just looks Rio in the eye and says, “She is going to hate you… Then all this will have been for nothing.”

Rio huffs. It’s a tired sound. “Hate me, huh?” He tries to laugh. A sound comes out. It’s not a laugh; just a strange and strangled noise. 

“Hate me? I don’t know what you’re thinking, Mick but you think she doesn’t hate me? You’re worried that she  _ will _ hate me? That train already left the station. About the Time she put three slugs in me, Mick. Fuck!”

  
  


Mick nods. Then Rio can almost see Mick’s thoughts. Mick looks uncertain; nods again, shakes his head and stares into his still-full glass. He comes to a conclusion. 

“Nah. she doesn’t…But she will. If you keep on trying to break her; or showing her like you hate her or whatever this is that you’re doing now, then she will really hate you. And then I swear, we’ll be fucked coz Lucy and everyone else we have to kill ‘cause of her will die for nothing anyway.” 

  
  


He pauses, barely takes a breath and rushes right on, “So maybe you need to decide if it’s love or hate right quick so we can get on with what needs to be done. If it’s hate, then she’s the egg. I don’t wanna kill nobody else for her to fuckin’ hate you anyway.”

  
  


Rio is about to blow a gasket. “Told you, Mick. Ain’t nothing there. It’s just business, Mick.” He’s exhausted; is fuckin’ tired of this.  _ Fuck _ , he hates this bar.

Mick sniggers, a grim sound. “It ain’t never been less business, ain’t never been more personal between any two people I ever met. And now we’re killing little girls for it.” He drains his entire glass but doesn’t pour more.

  
  


Rio grinds his teeth. Mick can actually hear the grinding. Rio’s hands clench. “Leave it, Mick. Fuck! You’re not hearing me. It’s just business.”

“Yeah, that’s why you’ve been so fuckin’ on edge since I brought her here at 3am?”

  
  


Rio thumps a fist softly onto the bar. Mick knows Rio really wants to hit something. It is obvious he is trying to contain himself. His temper has been really close to the surface since Mrs. B shot him. Rio rubs his head. “Leave it alone, Mick. For the last Time, just fuckin’ leave it.”

Mick wants to stop. He really does. He just can’t. “Ain’t nobody else going to say it.”

  
  


“Maybe we need to stop drinking together.” Rio starts to push back his stool.

“What, Rio? This is how it is now?”

“Yeah, Mick. This is how it is.” He stands.

Mick holds up his hands, “Fine….I’ll shut up.” Rio is seething. But he starts to sit back down. 

  
  


It’s as though Mick is a man possessed because he says, “You keep pushing people away, soon it will be just you, her and the baby.”

Rio’s hand comes down on the bar with a sharp crack. Ricardo, the bartender, slips out to the back room. Rio looks around. It’s a Tuesday and not yet happy hour. The only other guy in the bar drops some bills on his table and walks out; he too knows trouble when he sees it. 

  
  


Still standing, Rio drops his head and says very quietly and very clearly.“Ain’t no baby anymore, Mick.” Then he tries to work his breath around the lump in his throat. He feels like choking; he wants to gasp. 

Next to him, Mick breathes out a whisper, “Oh, shit!” Then he goes absolutely still. 

Rio swallows hard but he gets the words out, “Yeah, no shit.” 

  
  


There is a long, aching silence. It stretches on and on…seemingly unbreakable. Mick breaks it. “I’m sorry, Rio. She lost it?”

Rio wants to cry…laugh…something. He laughs, a brittle sound that breaks at the end. “She decided not to keep it.”

  
  


Mick bites his lip, passes a hand over his beard, his own peculiar self-soothing action. His shoulders slump; he looks steadily away from Rio. He can’t look now. He doesn’t want to see on Rio’s face what he can hear in Rio’s voice. 

Rio’s voice, distant and fragile, “Told you she hates me. She couldn’t even keep the baby to keep herself alive. Yes, I know that’s not a reason to have a baby but that’s just how much she wanted to not have it. Death was preferable, Mick.”

  
  


Mick drops his face, holds his head in both hands. 

Rio’s voice again, repeating what he had told Elizabeth at the park, “She, me, we; it’s just business, Mick.”

Mick seems to snap. He rounds on Rio and his voice is angry, “It ain’t  _ never _ been more personal. And she will fuckin’ hate you. And I think you want her to hate you. So you never have to get over what she did. And in the end, Lucy and everyone else, it will have been for fuckin’ nothing.” 

  
  


Rio’s voice is freezing cold when he tells Mick, “Maybe  _ I _ fuckin’ hate her.”

“Yeah?…” says Mick, “That’s why I killed that girl insteada’ her? Can’t do it again for nothing, Rio. So you gotta decide how bad you hate her or whatev...”

Rio walks out. 

**چوچو**

**Rio:** I’m trying to deal with the pressure…

I’ve been rejected, 

I don’t expect you to get my perspective…

But what do you expect 

When you walk into a therapy, therapy session

**Mood Music Credit: Therapy, Therapy Session** by **NF**

**چوچو**

7 minutes later, Rio comes back in. 

“Please, gimme your keys, Mick.”

Mick does. 

“Let’s get you home, Mick.”

Mick stands.

“It’s going to be all good, Mick.”

Mick nods.

“We’re all good, Mick.”

Mick nods. 


	13. The Gun Between Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rio's subconscious leaks through: his guilt and his wants tangle in his dreams.

**_The Gun Between Us_ **

**Beth:** _ I just wanna know, oh oh oh oh  _

_ When did you get so cold, oh oh oh oh _

_ What happened to your soul, oh oh oh oh _

_ Don’t you see me? _

_ - _

**Rio** **_:_ ** _ I remember that I guess I don’t know happened to us _

_ Now you got me questioning what trust is… _

_ I thought that we were close; But now that door is closed _

_ When did we lose control; Guess you don’t need me _

**-**

**Mood Music Credit: I Just Wanna Know** by **NF**

***(** I have just too much love for NF esp his album therapy session **)**

He dreams of Elizabeth. They’re standing in the park in the dark. Rain is dripping down her face. 

She is screaming something at him but the wind snatches the sound away. The rain keeps dripping down her face. 

Later, he doesn’t remember what he says to her. Her face crumbles. 

He wakes up. He turns. He falls back asleep.

\--

He dreams of Elizabeth again. They’re standing in the park in the dark. Rain is dripping down her face. 

She is screaming something at him but the wind snatches the sound away. The rain keeps dripping down her face.

  
  


Later, he remembers exactly what he does with her; he kisses her; she kisses him back. He pulls her dress right off her and bends her over the picnic table. He grabs a fistful of her hair. And when he thrusts into her, he’s biting her shoulder and yanking hard on her hair. Then he straightens and holds her bent over the table. His right hand is on her left shoulder, just like she likes. He thrusts hard into her. Her back arches. The rain drips down her back. She moans his name and he hears it once but then the wind snatches the sound away. She starts to come for him; he starts to come in her. 

  
  


The wind dies abruptly. 

Her voice in the dark says, “She was a good person. You didn’t have to do it.” A gun goes off between them;  _ Bang _ .

  
  


He wakes up hard and aching. He feels like choking. He wants to gasp. He doesn’t fall back asleep. He lies in the dark and listens to the sound of the rain tapping on his window. 


	14. Sharpen Your Knife on Her Whetstone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth and Rio argue and things escalate quickly.  
> Weapons are drawn with deadly intent. Who survives? Who gets hurt?

**_Sharpen Your Knife on Her Whetstone_ **

**Rio:** _Black magic, night walker; She haunts me like no other_

_Nobody told me love is pain,_

_Oh, Black magic, dark water; Surrounds me like no other_

_She's got my heart in chains_

\--

_She knows that I would walk over_

_hot coals for her with both of my feet bare_

_Yeah, and I got her back, but I'm spineless_

_So when she stabs me in mine; it's like I just can't feel the knife_

_As she pokes, jabs it and slices; I must be under her spell_

_It's like lookin' right into a gun barrel_

_But none of these hoes can fuck with_ **_my girl_**

\--

_She got that_

_**Black Magic**. _

**Mood Music Credit: Black Magic by Eminem and Skylar Grey**

  
  


Mick calls him a fool when he has it made; tells Rio that it’s the most idiotic thing he’s ever done. Rio is inclined to agree with him. He does it anyway. She’s doing drops in the night without her girls sometimes. She sits in the dark on that bench in the park and waits for him or Mick sometimes. He needs her to be safe; that’s what he tells Mick anyway.

چوچو

 **Rio:** _She lunges, attacks, and scratches_

_But I ain't gonna stand for that shit_

_As I say farewell to the love of my life, I cut and I slice_

_I give her one last hug, goodbye; Wipe the blood off my butterfly knife_

_Watch her fuckin' die right in front of my eyes_

**Mood Music Credit: Black Magic by Eminem and Skylar Grey**

Elizabeth is at it again. She has called the cops on Mick. Rio thinks she’s trying to establish boundaries. He can understand that. It must be annoying having Mick parked outside her home on so many nights. She thinks Mick is just there to report on her to Rio; he is. But he’s also there for her safety. Rio can’t tell her that though. So although he understands why she’s anonymously calling the cops on Mick, she has to cut that shit out. Mick’s not going anywhere and she needs to get that through her head. 

  
  


Besides, every time she gets Mick arrested, she’s drawing attention to herself. Someday, some cop with half-of-a-work-ethic is going to figure out that the calls are all coming from the same place; then they’ll make the connection from her to Mick and then on to Rio and close the loop from Rio back to her. 

  
  


So now he’s at her house talking to her back because she refuses to turn from the sink. The tap is running but she’s not actually doing dishes. She hasn’t even touched the water; her hands are still dry. She just won’t deign to dignify his presence with her full attention. It infuriates him; he doesn’t have the patience for her drama. He thought they were over this. _Goddamnit, Elizabeth!_

  
  


“You’re not going to turn around, then? Turn around, Elizabeth.”

She ignores him. Just straightens her spine and ignores him. It makes him angrier yet. _She went and grew a spine just for me. …for me,_ the thought recurs. He can’t help the rush of heat between his legs; it leaves him hard. That just makes him madder. 

“I best not have to come over here about this again. You cut it out, Elizabeth.” Rio’s voice is cold.

“Or what? You going to let Mick kill me like he did Lucy or are you going to _man up_ and do it yourself.” 

She says it just like that; will all the emphasis on _man up_. He sees fuckin’ red.

  
  


He comes at her; across the room, around the island. Elizabeth finally turns; she’s facing him by the Time he’s around the island. He’s coming fast, gun in his hand. He puts it to her head, right against her temple like he has done so many times before. He steps right into her space till their bodies are touching. He doesn’t mean to do it; doesn’t mean to touch her but she’s moving towards him too. It just happens. 

  
  


It distracts him; the feel of her body touching his. He thinks it’s this distraction that causes what happens next to happen. 

Too late, he registers the knife in her hand. She thrusts up and at his chest but she’s too slow…or maybe his instincts kick in and move him a bit faster than her. Either way, he sees the knife aimed at him. She’s holding it in her left hand; her weaker hand. The knife barely grazes him; it’s a weak, ineffectual, inconsequential blow.

  
  


The blade is not sharp enough to hurt him; it snags on his shirt. But it makes him murderous…and so he does a foolish thing. Rio is acting entirely on instinct when he drops his gun hand from her temple. Gun still in his hand, his finger a hairs-breadth from the trigger, he parries her thrust with his right arm; uses his elbow to knock her hand away. 

  
  


Rio’s elbow hits the inside of her forearm; jolts her arm. His elbow keeps going, up and out; it sweeps her arm up and aside. Maybe he pushes her elbow high enough that it locks; maybe he hits the nerve at her elbow; maybe her grip on the knife was clumsy to start with; the knife drops from her hand. She is disarmed.

  
  


Time shifts; seems to slow.

As though he’s watching a slow-motion reel play, he watches the blade fall. It hits the ground, handle first and clatters about. Time snaps back into place. He snarls, brings his gun back up to her temple again. 

  
  


Her voice is twisted. Sad. Husky. Gasping. Raw. 

“Wrong gun, Rio,” she whispers. 

Time goes wonky again, slows…or maybe his thoughts are racing because he finds that he has the Time to think that he is not sure he understands; he is not sure what she means; which gun is the wrong gun? He gets distracted.

  
  


_Wrong gun, Rio._

_Wrong gun;_ In his hand, she means? 

_Wrong gun;_ Because it’s not-the-golden-gun in his hand? or

 _Wrong gun;_ The one that is so hard in his boxer-briefs and pressed to her belly?

 _Wrong gun;_ The one that is so hard that he is throbbing; aching to put it in her and hurt her so good with it?

He shudders.

It seems important; if this is the last thing she says to him, he wants to know what she means. Rio wants to ask her but there’s no Time because Time slips past him and starts racing. 

  
  


That’s when he feels it; the point of another knife on the left side of his chest. This blade has already cut through his shirt; cold, cold metal is against his skin. Then the blade bites into him, cuts into his pectorals; hot, hot searing pain is in his chest. 

Everything he does after that, he does on pure instinct; his body is just trying to save itself. 

_Instinct;_ He pulls the trigger; she squeezes her eyes shut; the gun clicks. _Elizabeth sobs_.

  
  


He is pedaling back trying to get out of her reach; she’s moving with him trying to drive the knife home. A hot wetness spills down his chest; blood. He’s bleeding and that blade is still slicing into him. 

_Instinct;_ He scrambles back. He stumbles, turns it into a twist; he wrenches his left shoulder away from her.

 _Instinct;_ He pulls the trigger again. The gun clicks again; nothing. Eyes still closed, _Elizabeth sobs_.

Then he is out of her reach and the knife is not in him and his left hand is pressing into his side; hot blood slick on his fingers; a burning pain beneath his hand. _AAAaaargh!_ He can kill her from over here; from far away. No need to get close and personal. He has a gun, _dammit_.

 _Instinct;_ He pulls the trigger a third Time. _Elizabeth!_ her name in his heart -which is currently lodged in his mouth. He wants to sob; _Elizabeth does_.

  
  


He feels Time shift; slip back into place. 

Her eyes open. They’re nearly black; her irises thin blue rims around the yawning black pools of her pupils. Rio sees his death in her eyes. He drops the useless gun on the island. He is disarmed.

Her hand falls to the island. He blinks. He feels like choking; he wants to gasp. The blade drops from her fingers next to his gun. _Now,_ she is disarmed. 

  
  


She looks nauseous, faint. She sways; he thinks she might pass out. On instinct, he is moving to catch her when she grabs onto the edge of the island with both hands and steadies herself. Her eyes are huge in her bloodless face. 

  
  


Time jolts again; goes so, so, so terribly slow. Outside, the night is desperately quiet. The only sound is that of Elizabeth's panting sobs. He gulps once; his eyes shut. She lifts her hand from the island; covers her mouth with her right hand; a strangled noise escapes her. His eyes snap open. There’s blood smudged on her cheek; she must have touched the bloody knife. He presses his hand closer into his chest. Still the blood trickles, warm and thick between his fingers and he just stands and watches her. He has already seen his death in her eyes tonight; he wonders if there is more to see. So he just stands and watches her. 

  
  


She closes her eyes against him. So his eyes fall to the knife on the island and his heart stops cold.

_Cold;_ because this blade is _not_ a kitchen knife but some strange sort of long, thin blade like he has never seen before; an honest-to-god medieval-looking dagger. _“You wanna be the king, you gotta kill the king. This stuff’s medieval, darling.”_ Rio is sure he hadn’t meant she should use a fuckin’ dagger on him. His heart stutters; starts up again. 

It just lies there, malicious and malevolent, ornate and horribly beautiful; a baleful bronze tint to it; more sinister even than the gun beside it. His blood runs cold. 

_Cold;_ because it tapers from a one-inch thickness to a mere couple of millimeters at its point. The blade is of the same length as his hand from wrist to fingertips. He imagines the length of it impaled in him; sank to the haft in his chest; _cold._

_Colder;_ because it has been sharpened to razor-thin edges and its gleaming length is tipped red in his blood. 

_Colder yet;_ because where it is not red with his blood, it catches the light and throws it back at him; winks wickedly; glints and glints and glares at him. 

_Cold as ice;_ because it’s obvious that someone spent hours sharpening it. _Her? Maybe?_

_Cold as death;_ because this is not a kitchen knife and that means she had gone out and bought it and maybe sharpened it and kept it close to hand and _waited_ for him. And he had strutted in here convinced she was cowed -here on her turf- and he had been smug and overconfident and stupid.

And he had let her goad him; and he had made it so easy. Because he wanted to be angry at her; show her who was boss so bad that he couldn’t use his head. Because she knows where all his buttons are and how to push them _just_ right. So she had known that he would lose it. And he had come at her; stupid and hot-blooded.

And she had _let him_ and feinted with a kitchen knife all the while knowing that she would lose it to him and knowing he would never see the second one coming. And then and only then, when he had been sure he had beaten her, she had pulled out the other knife; the one she meant to kill him with and _she almost had_ . With tears in her eyes and sobs in her mouth, **_she almost had_ **. 

  
  


_Christ!_ She had bought a knife. She had gone out and bought a knife. A fuckin’ knife! She brought a fuckin’ knife to what he stupidly thought would always be a gun-fight. And she really almost pushed it between his ribs and really almost fuckin’ killed him. Again. With a fuckin’ knife!

  
  


Then Rio sees the whetstone in a bowl in the sink and he knows he is well and truly fucked. Because now he _knows_ that she had sharpened the knife herself. He tries to picture it; her seated at that island with a bourbon and a stone and a knife in her hand; sharpening it while her kids slept upstairs. The cold is in his bones now.

  
  


“Rio.” His eyes snap back to hers. He wants to say _“Elizabeth”_ but it won’t come out. 

“Rio…” Her voice is barely a shaky whisper. “If you kill someone I love again, I’ll kill you or die trying.” A tear slips out and runs down her face. 

His gut clenches. There! His death is in her eyes again. One day, she really is going to kill him…or die trying. He doesn’t know which is worse. He thinks it will be soon. He can’t tear his eyes away from hers. She blinks. Time shifts again.

He watches her staring back at him, eyes wide in her face, tears spilling out; her breaths small and rapid and ragged. And she looks petrified and lost. But he thinks not. No, she _is_ not lost. No, she _has_ not lost. She has won. Because now he’s afraid. He’s just so fuckin’ afraid. She’s going to kill him one day. Soon, he thinks. Again. When she does, will she have tears in her eyes and sobs in her mouth for him again? _For me? For me?_ Why is he so hard? Why does he want to put her on that island and fuck her next to the gun and the knife?

  
  


He thinks about the Time when she was pregnant; wishes his baby was still sleeping inside of her. And inside his chest, it aches more than the gaping wound on the surface. And he wants to bury himself in her so it will make him feel better. He wants to bury himself in her and really make her cry from how good he can hurt her. _Why do I always want to hurt her?_ The question is so loud in his head. The answer, just as deafening; _she likes it so good when I do it like that._

Then, _because my hunger for her and my hurt from her live in one place inside of me,_ he thinks. And he still doesn’t know how to separate the two. He thinks maybe they’re inseparable. He is so hard. For a mad moment, her name starts to form on his lips…

Then Elizabeth tears her gaze from his and the moment is past. Her name dies off; an unspoken prayer in his mouth.

  
  


She picks up the gun. Rio asks himself why he keeps doing this; why he keeps putting guns in her hand. He watches her hold it, turn it about. He’s not worried; it has already failed him three times tonight. There must be something wrong; he’ll look at it later. 

  
  


Then she laughs; a smug, self-satisfied little laugh with a jagged fringe. It sets his teeth on edge. And her voice is strange and haunting; _like Elizabeth from Before_ , he thinks. … _from before she got scared of me and started to hate me_. She says, “Safety was on.”

His whole body shudders. _Safety was on._

Every hair on his body stands on end. _Safety was on._

The words echo and echo in the space between them; _Safety was on._

  
  


And he has never done that before; never meant to kill something and pulled the trigger with the safety on…not even when he had been a boy and just got in this game…not even if he had had a drink or three… _never._ _Just never._ And before today his cock has been trying to betray him; but now even his hands have become fuckin' traitors.

  
  


He can’t help himself; he holds his hands palm up in front of him. The left one smeared with his blood; the right one clean; both of them trembling slightly. His fuckin’ hands are betraying him to her. He curses in his head. A drop of blood falls from his hand to the floor. 

  
  


He presses his left hand back to his bleeding chest and turns to walk out. He takes a step. It’s the loudest sound he has ever heard; the sound of her taking the safety off. He stops midstride; his mouth is dry. She won’t try it twice in one night, will she? In his mind he is saying, _Please don’t, mama. Not tonight, darling. Not again tonight._ He puts his foot back; steps backward into the exact spot he had left a second or three ago.

  
  


Rio takes a breath; long and shuddering. He knows she sees it. He turns slowly around to face her. She grips the gun firmly by the butt…just like he taught her; rests her finger lightly by the trigger…just like he taught her. She is pointing it steadily at his chest…just like he taught her. 

  
  


Rio turns and walks away. It is a few short steps to the door. It’s the longest walk of his life. He can feel the gun still pointed at him; like a pressure between his shoulder blades. A chill ghosts down his spine; someone is tap-dancing on his grave. And all the while, he thinks, _Not again tonight, mama. Not tonight, darling._

“Don’t you want it?” The safety clicks back on.

“T’was for you, mama…for when you do the drops at night.” He steps out into the night.

  
  


He had brought it for her. It is rose-gold and he has had the grip engraved with flowers and swirls that remind him of her messy curls. He needs her to be safe; that’s what he tells Mick anyway.

  
  


What he doesn’t tell Mick is that; 

Maybe he needs a reason to remember that behind those beautiful baby-blues is the woman who put three slugs in his chest; he thinks, mostly because he called her _“work”_. 

Maybe he needs to be reminded because sometimes he forgets that she’s deadly in the right circumstances. 

Maybe he needs to provide the weapon so that he has a chance to see her coming.

  
  


Maybe he needs to be reminded because sometimes he catches himself wishing she wasn’t _work_ or _just business_ anymore.

Maybe sometimes Mick says something and Rio finds himself thinking he wants what he and Elizabeth had _Before_ …and more.

Maybe he needs her to be able to kill him and choose not to.

Maybe he needs her to unmake that choice she made once.

Maybe he needs her this Time to choose him.

Just him. 

Him. 

Maybe.

_Fuck!_

  
  


So now he has given her a gun. His heart twists; she just tried to kill him with a knife. Well, now he knows; she’ll keep trying and one day, she’ll finally get it right. And but for his hands being traitors, he almost killed her tonight. Three times, he pulled the trigger on her. Three times, he almost killed her. He feels nauseous. His mouth is so, so dry. His shirt is soaked through with blood. The left leg of his jeans too. He’s starting to feel faint. He feels naked without a gun; his is in the car. 

  
  


_Shit!_ What has he done? 

He thinks, _She didn’t take her shot though. Woulda have been the easiest thing in the world and she didn’t take it._ That means something; he just doesn’t know what. He taps the car window. “You gotta drive, Mick.” Mick steps out. Rio climbs into the car, leans back, closes his eyes and thinks that if he weren’t so cold, he would still be hard.

**چوچو**

Beth won’t be able to kill him herself. Not anymore. He’s just given her a gun so he will be ready for her. And just for a moment, she thought she saw something in his eyes; something unexpected; something hungry…naked…and needy… _for her_ . And just for a moment, in her chest, her heart was beating and beating… _for him_ , she thinks. _…for him._ She shivers. 

Beth thinks she needs to talk to Ruby and Annie; _we need a hitman_. 

And so they get one; James B. Fitzpatrick, IV. 


	15. Shit Luck, Strange Sex? Tequila!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rio hooks up with a beautiful stranger. It goes kinda great... Until it doesn't? Or does it?

**_Shit Luck, Strange Sex? Tequila!_ **

They’ve been at the bar for the last hour but Rio still hasn’t ordered a drink. He seems restless; unable to settle down. He keeps shifting, fidgeting, rolling his shoulders; small unconscious movements that he wouldn’t normally let anyone see. Except tonight. Tonight, it’s like he’s a whole other Rio; a Rio sitting on the edge of a jagged knife. 

  
  


“Hey, Mick…wanna go someplace else?” 

Mick raises one eyebrow; _Okay, this is interesting._ Because Rio likes this bar and since Elizabeth became a fixture, Mick knows that Rio has been haunting it like an uneasy shade returning to its familial demesne.

“Sure. What’s up? Where d’you wanna go?”

  
  


_Any place else._ Rio wants to say. _Any goddamn place else._ Because tonight, this bar is too oppressive. There’s too much Elizabeth here. Too much history. There’s the stool where she had sat when he had told her she was a boss bitch and given her the keys to his kingdom; then she had gone and given the damn money to her dumbass husband. _Fuckin’ Carman_. 

  
  


There was the place she had told him that she wanted to be a good person and that he didn’t know her; but he had ordered her a bourbon on the rocks and she had known that he was seeing her; seeing her clearer than anyone else ever saw her; clearer than her husband had ever seen her in 20 years. 

  
  


There was the place where she had sat with the husband and Rio had watched her watching him; watched her twirling her hair with that _come-hither_ look that her dumbass husband had been entirely blind to. 

There is the keen sense of satisfaction he always feels when he remembers going into that bathroom after Elizabeth and watching her face in the mirror; her eyes telling him without a word to take her like he had been dreaming of since he had first seen her; after she had robbed the grocery store and walked into her house to find Rio and Dags waiting in her kitchen. She had dropped her groceries and screamed. He has had fantasies about making her scream again; wondered how many different sounds he could get out of her; how many ways he could get that exact sound out of her. 

  
  


He shakes his head. Tries to shake off this mood. Fails to. _She_ is too close; she is everywhere. Because on the empty stool between him and Mick is the place she had sat and told him his money was at home and then he had followed her home knowing what he was going to do, what she was going to let him do to her, what they would do to each other and how good it would be. And it had been; _Christ! It had been so good._ But he hadn’t counted on being naked in her tangled sheets when she told him to get lost. 

  
  


The same empty stool beside him is where she had sat and _told_ him she had decided not to keep the baby, _his_ baby, _their_ baby. And that’s the memory that has finally soured the bar, _their_ bar for him. So every Time he’s been here in the last couple of weeks, he’s been playing emotional whack-a-mole; a feeling rears its unwelcome little head and he smashes it down; looks about for the next one and squishes it flat. He has been winning but his aim is getting worse and some things are starting to get through. 

Like he’s sick of being sick over it. He remembers the sound of the baby’s heartbeat and how it has filled every silence for days thereafter; _whomp, whomp, whomp, whomp, whomp._ He hadn’t wanted another kid before he had heard it but then he had heard it; and the baby was in Elizabeth and he had been terrified. Then he and Mick had drunk to the baby and Rio had realized how badly he had wanted Elizabeth to have that baby; for him; but then she decided not to.

  
  


Yes, he knows he hasn’t a say in her keeping the baby and that his opinion was unwanted and unnecessary. He just wants to understand. _Why_ had she made that decision? Did she just not want another baby? Coz _that_ makes some kind of sense; _that_ he can sorta try to live with. Did she not want _his_ baby, though? That’s a whole other kettle of fish, isn’t it? He just wants to understand; but he will never ask her so he will never _know_ . He kicks the stool beside him. _Fuck!_ He grimaces, hops off his seat. 

  
  


**چوچو**

They leave for another bar two streets over. _Aaah. Better._

Mick is irritated when Rio picks up the girl. Rio doesn’t care to examine that; he’s not about to get into another discussion of life choices with Mick. 

  
  


What?” Rio snarls, eyebrow raised in a challenge. Mick watches Rio get his keys, wrap an arm around the girl, pull her in closer so that he can stare Mick down over her head. Mick says nothing but he sort of shakes his head in disgust when Rio leaves with the girl.

. 

It is a short drive to her place; it’s almost always their place or a hotel. He likes to keep his life compartmentalized. He never picks up any girls at _the_ bar; no need to give them a return address. To the girls, he is just Christopher. He takes them home, shows them a good time and leaves before they wake up. It wasn’t always like this; he has dated some women since Rhea, liked them, spent a good deal of time with them but would always break it off when they wanted to go to his apartment or meet Marcus too soon. No matter how long it took, it always felt too soon for him. 

  
  


It hadn’t felt that way with Elizabeth though. Yes, he had been making a point when he had gone to the park to meet her and taken Marcus with him; he had been making the point that it wasn’t a game for him either; that he had family at stake just as much as she did. 

  
  


But he had never done that with anyone else. And it hadn’t felt wrong; it hadn’t felt too soon. He realizes now, with a twinge in his chest, that maybe he had trusted her; trusted her and her girls; trusted them to know what it felt like to be a parent in a tough situation and so hoped they wouldn’t mess up his life any more.

  
  


He had trusted them to understand the exact lengths he would go to if necessary; the stuff he was willing to fuck up if he had to; the misery he would mete out if he had to unfuck the shit they fucked up for him. _Ha!_ He scoffs. _Oh, yeah! That turned out great, Rio!_

  
  


So he tells himself that he’s just keeping things simple. But maybe the rest of the truth is that since he met Elizabeth, he’s been tired of feeling things. There always something to feel with her; interest; pique; happiness _-fleeting, insubstantial but unforgettable_ ; pride, disappointment, regret, an uncomfortable sense of yearning for some unnamed thing - _he hates it_ ; anger, so much fuckin’ anger, so much fuckin’ pain, so much self-loathing – _he’s reluctant to indulge in that one too often_ ; and all the while his chest aches and aches and he fuckin’ _hates_ that he knows it’s not from the gunshots or the surgery. 

  
  


It’s from her. Just her. She is his never-ending pain, punishment and misery. So why doesn’t he just cut his losses and cut her loose? 

  
  


Maybe because she won’t let him; she’ll go and cook up some scheme and casually start hiving off a piece of his kingdom and he’ll find himself ensnared in it somehow; they’ll find themselves back at the beginning again. _Goddamn, Elizabeth! It’s always 2 steps forward, 73 steps all the way back to the beginning; I’m trapped in some sort of hideous Timewarp;_ one that just keeps spitting him into new realities where _Elizabeth is still doing some shit to fuck up my life! Christ! She’s fuckin’ relentless._

  
  


Also, maybe because he hates that he doesn’t even know how to begin to cut her loose. Maybe because that would be like cutting off some part of himself he’s not willing to let go off yet. Even when that _“part-of-himself”_ tried to knife him to death in her kitchen just a couple of weeks ago, he can’t cut her off yet. Oh and she’s been stealing from him; skimming off the top of the funny money she prints for him. As if she thinks he doesn’t know; like he’s an idiot. And he _still_ can’t cut her off. He really _hates_ it. _Goddamn, Elizabeth._

  
  


_Yeah._ So now he doesn’t want complicated or long-term. He wants simple. Easy. Light. He’ll hit it with this girl then he’ll kiss her and never see her again. And it will be good and fun and forgettable. Unthinking. He’s got enough to think about the rest of the time. 

  
  


**چوچو**

_Well, fuck me!_ Rio sighs into the night as he walks out of her apartment building. 

It starts out great; she is chatty and flirty in the car. At her door, he presses hungry, little, open-mouthed kisses to her bare back and she giggles breathlessly. Then they tumble together into her apartment and he helps her unzip her boots; he stands slowly, running his hands lingeringly up her long, long legs. She shivers. He stops an inch below the hem of her skirt, nips her shoulder, then slipped his hand below the hem of her skirt, trailing a finger up to her panties. 

  
  


Only she’s not wearing panties and his finger brushes her bare clit. She moans and suddenly, they both are out of control. He slips a finger between her folds; she is already wet. He grins; _fun, easy, light!_ Exactly what he needs. 

  
  


She reaches to kiss him but he drops his head; pushes the skirt of her dress up around her waist. She grabs onto his shoulders when he pushes a finger inside her. She is so turned on she’s panting above his head. She wants more; so Rio drops to one knee, shoves her against the wall. He parts her folds, fingers ghosting over her clit. She mewls in response. He grins again. He adds a finger and crooks it. He takes his time, teases her with his fingers, tortures her and thoroughly enjoys doing it. 

  
  


By the time she comes, she is a whimpering mess and she’s begging for his cock in her. He grabs her ass and lifts her up against the wall. It’s when he’s kissing her that it happens; a distracting thought drifts into his mind. 

  
  


_Tequila,_ he thinks. _Tequila and lemon._ He pushes the thought away, pushes the strap of her dress down. He kisses her neck, catches the scent of her hair. It smells nice; like shea butter, he thinks. A thought niggles at him; _different. Fuck!_ She tastes different. She smells different. He thinks to himself, _Bourbon and strawberry taste; cherry blossom scent; That’s what I need._ He curses himself mentally and bends his mouth to her lace-covered nipples. 

  
  


_No!_ Rio doesn’t want to do this against the wall; he can’t get the image of Elizabeth against the wall out of his mind. He puts her on her small dining table and hopes it holds up. She wraps her legs tight around him, pulls him closer, pushes his jacket off. She’s mumbling “condom” against his neck as she pushes his jeans down and he wants to growl at her that he’s not stupid enough to hit it without one. _Got burnt real good the last time, mami; goddamn Elizabeth!_ He pulls a condom from his back pocket, tears open the wrapper, places it on the head of his cock. Then he stops; just stops. 

  
  


She’s watching him impatiently; she thinks maybe he doesn’t want the condom. She’s desperate for him. “If you don’t want to wrap, you can pull out.” She grabs his cock, squeezes it. Rio shivers; he’s so hard he can feel his beartbeat in his dick. He kisses her again. _Lemon._ He rolls the condom on and strokes her clit with the tip of his cock. She whimpers, “Oh god! Yes…” Her heels press into his ass cheeks, trying to pull him closer. He starts to push in. He falters; steps back. 

  
  


She wails, “Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?! Come on me! Come in me! I’m on the pill. Just _please_ …Christopher.” He pulls off the condom and she pulls him back with her feet. He catches her hands in his. “I’m sorry, darling. I’m not sure I’m up for this,” he murmurs. 

  
  


She sputters and raises herself onto her elbows. “But you’re…” she’s staring at him because he is hard as fuck. _Fuck! Gotta stop thinking with your head and just think with… well, the other head._ He bites back a laugh. _Shit! There’s that juvenile thought again. In reverse!_ He almost gets the giggles. There’s only one problem; she’s pretty and all but he just doesn’t want to hit it with _her_.

  
  


He runs his hand wearily over his head. “Sorry, darling. I gotta go.” He kisses her cheek to soften the blow but she pushes him away. So he straightens up and tugs his pants back on. 

“Why?” her voice is cold. She’s slipping off the table and clutching her dress in front of her breasts. “Are you some married jerk who has suddenly decided to sprout a conscience on...”

“No. S’not that.” Rio cuts her off, shakes his head. Belatedly, he thinks he should have just said yes. That would have been easier for her to deal with, he realizes. Easier for him too; no other explanations needed. She stares at him; she is livid. 

  
  


“Listen, I’ve got…” 

“What?” she spits.

“Um…Baggage?…I guess?” He’s walking backward, putting on his jacket as he goes. 

“ _Baggage?!!_ ” 

  
  


Rio looks at her. She’s spitting mad because even as she pulls her dress back on, she is cursing audibly. “See you around, sweetheart,” he says.

He is already at the door when she snarls, “Well, thanks for the orgasm. Next time maybe don’t bring your effing baggage into someone else’s effing house!” 

He shuts the door behind him. Well, _that_ was not good; was _not_ fun; was _not_ forgettable. 

_Fuck me!_ The condom is still in his hand. As he walks back to his car, he’s trying to remember her name. _Hailey?_ Maybe _Hadley?_ _Damn!_

  
  


**چوچو**

When Rio walks back into the bar, Mick grins and peers at an imaginary watch. 

“Shut up, Mick,” Rio growls. 

Mick puts his hands up in mock surrender. “Me?” he affects an injured look. Then he orders a round of drinks. 

1 drink later, Rio starts laughing; _Damn!_ It’s been some kind of night. _What the fuck was that, even?_ And he’s starting to think that it’s early enough that the rest of this night could go either way. He grins. 

  
  


**چوچو**

Rio is already more than half-way there when he finally admits to himself that he’s driving to Elizabeth’s. He tells himself he’s going to tell her that he knows she’s been skimming off the top of his funny money but his heart doesn’t believe the lie.

_Damn you, Mick; for putting the thought in my head that she’s home alone._ Maybe he just wants to see her; is that the worst thing in the world? He thinks, _She’ll already be in bed sleeping; maybe she’ll be soft tonight; like Elizabeth from Before._

He rubs his new scar; the one from Elizabeth stabbing him. Goddamn, Elizabeth! He hopes she doesn’t try to start some violence tonight. _She won’t_ , he thinks. _Not tonight._

  
  


He should really have had Mick drive him; he’s feeling exhausted. It's making the three drinks feel like five. But, _Nah._ He really doesn’t need to have Mick know about this.


	16. Even If It's Just Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rio caves to his cravings. 
> 
> Even if just for one night, he just wants to be with Elizabeth.
> 
> Things get hot and heavy. Very hot and heavy.
> 
> This chapter for my lost muse MissTricey😍😍, who ships them so hard. 😥Where did you go? 
> 
> And 
> 
> Drunk Rio for cinnamon_schnapps,  
> Who has wanted Drunk-Rio for the longest. He's a hot vibe 😋😘

**_Even If It’s Just Tonight_ **

**Brio:** _Baby, sink in this bed,_

_Stare with me at the ceiling,_

_Let’s lay here catching our breath,_

_And if we slip away while we’re high on the feeling,_

_I promise we won’t have regrets,_

_If you just let me love you to death,_

_\--_

_I’m a hard pill to take_

_Ain’t got it all figured out_

_I know a place we can hide_

_Get lost in the moment_

_Even if it’s just tonight_

Just let me love you to death

 **Mood Music Credit: Love You To Death** by **Chord Overstreet**

  
  
  


**_Your lips, My lips; Apocalypse_ **

She startles awake and lies in the dark listening. Dean has taken the kids to visit Judith so Beth is home alone. It’s silent. So she thinks she must have been dreaming and starts to drift off. Then she hears it again; a ping from the kitchen. 

  
  


Heart pounding, mouth dry, she opens her bedroom door and peers out. Every little hair on her neck is standing; she half expects to be attacked. The gun Rio gave her is in her purse in the kitchen. The dagger is in the drawer in the island. There are no proper weapons in her bedroom so she grabs a vase from the top of her wardrobe. Nope, that won’t do. _Oh God!_ She grabs Dean’s shotgun even though it’s not loaded; whoever is in her kitchen doesn’t need to know that. She has a vivid flashback to the time she stuck a toy gun in Boomer’s face and he had figured it out. _Toy gun; unloaded shotgun; proper gun in the kitchen! Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid._ The thought keeps Time with her heartbeat. 

  
  


She sees him and breathes a sigh; relieved, if only for a moment. 

Rio has got the fridge door open and he’s staring into it. Apparently, he hasn’t heard her. He stands there for a long while, a long lean silhouette against the refrigerator light. The rest of the kitchen is dark. He seems to be moving a bit slower than usual; like a panther that has neatly tucked away its claws and ferocity and is ready to be petted. 

  
  


She’s ashamed that she wants to walk up behind him and meld herself to him. She shivers; this is an illusion and she had best not forget it. He is all hungry, lean, mean predator under that relaxed exterior. 

  
  


Then Rio steps back, leaves the fridge door open and his beautiful face is in profile; he has found the dessert she had made for the kids’ return the next day; in his hand, he has snagged one of the 6 bowls of peach melba. She has a moment in which she sees Marcus’ face in the dark instead of his. She realizes she can smell apple pie and thinks that maybe the ping of the microwave is what had woken her up. _He’s really quite shameless_ , she thinks, because not only has he snagged some peach melba but he’s also apparently served himself a piece of apple pie. She giggles.

“Hey, now.” He murmurs to her. He doesn’t turn to her, just casually walks over to the microwave and pulls out the apple pie. He leaves the microwave door open and shuts the fridge. She gets what he’s doing; he doesn’t want to turn on the lights. 

  
  


She’s mesmerized; can’t help herself. He just seems so relaxed, almost like he belongs in her kitchen; not like she is one wrong move from him killing her. It’s a sobering thought; she notices his new gun on top of the fridge. A twinge of regret runs through her when she thinks of the golden gun; she shakes it off. 

  
  


She clears her throat. 

“Hey, mama.” His speech is slow; like he is 2 or 3 drinks away from drunk. “Woke you up, darling? Unexpectedly, she’s irate. Rio only calls her darling when he’s being a jerk; like when he had called her _work; it’s just business, darling._ Or _Come on, darling! You remember. I hit it in the bedroom while your husband was at work!_ Or _You wanna be the king, you gotta kill the king. This stuff’s medieval, darling._ She hates it when he calls her darling. 

  
  


So why does it sound so different tonight? So soft and caressing in the dim light of the microwave at almost 2 in the morning? Why does it feel almost like an old lover’s touch; familiar, missed, yearned for? She watches him quietly; doesn’t respond. She doesn’t know what game he’s playing but she’s not about to get herself caught in it. 

  
  


He gets a dessert spoon from a drawer in the island, - _You know my kitchen too well!-_ walks languidly around the kitchen island, hands full with his two desserts, drifting within touching distance of her. His gun is far from him now; on top of the fridge. She thinks maybe she could beat him to it in a pinch. So…. _guess I don’t die tonight._ She props the shotgun down against the dining room doorway; that’s when he looks at her, really looks at her. 

  
  


“Know how to use one of those, mami?” he asks softly. When she doesn’t answer, Rio says, “Never bring a gun you’re not prepared to use into a volatile situation, darling. Makes things worse. And you should use the one I gave you; it’s better for you.” He pauses, tilts his head at her in that way he does sometimes then continues, “Where’s that freaky knife of yours? Planning to use it on me tonight?” He smiles at her, sweet and slow. She feels heat creep up her neck into her face and race back down again and is glad that he can’t see that in the low light. She shakes her head at him. 

  
  


He sits then on one of the tall stools at the island; he is still smiling at her. _What is going on here?_ She’s never seen this Rio; he’s always been intense and fierce. Even when he had been ‘hitting it in her bedroom’ _-God she hates that expression!-_ there had still been something animated and consuming about him. Now he seems…odd; _like he’s content to let go and let things happen to him, instead of him happening to them._ She shivers; she wants to be the thing happening to him. She backs two steps farther away from him. 

He takes a small bite of pie; so small it’s almost delicate. Then he closes his eyes in appreciation. “So good, mami.” He is whispering. Her panties are suddenly soaked. She finds herself thinking that in the right circumstances, she could come to the sound of his voice alone.

  
  


“What are you doing?” Elizabeth's voice is urgent, demanding.

Rio's eyes flutter open, focus on her. “Can’t you see? Returning the favour; stealing something from you.” He smiles at her, takes a tiny bite of the peach melba. He is lingering over it; reluctant to eat it and be done. 

  
  


“Rio, why are you in my kitchen?”

“Told you, mami. Wanted ice-cream and see, I used to send Mick to drop some off here twice a week so...” He takes a bite, makes a sound at the back of his throat. “So, I figured I know a place that almost always has ice-cream and that makes the best desserts…I know the Chef too.” He grins; but it’s so slow and languorous that she wants to run away. Run away or peel off her panties and… 

  
  


“Found that pie that Marcus likes too…mmmh, the spices…nutmeg, cinnamon… mmh... cardamom… maybe ginger?” He swallows. “You’re so, so good, mami.” She knows what he means; that the _pie_ is good; but now she just wants to throw herself at him. _You’re so, so good, mami._ The words hang in the air between them but he seems either unaware of just what he’s said or the effect it’s having on her. 

  
  


“I ever told you I got a real mean sweet tooth, darling?” She wants to be mad, she really does; He’s not supposed to be here; in her kitchen; like Rio from _Before._ But she thinks he has had a few drinks. Plus, she has never seen this Rio before; soft and open and chatty and unguarded and indulging his sweet tooth like she has never quite seen anyone else do. He seems to die a little with each bite, he loves it so much. 

  
  


“Yeah? A sweet tooth, huh?” She steps closer and into the dim light. 

“Yeah, mama. It’s real bad too.” He’s looking at her eyes when he says that; something heated and lustful and hungry in his gaze then he lets his eyes drift down her body and up again. He lingers over her breasts; she’s braless in a strappy cotton vest; the thin fabric leaving not much to the imagination. _It’s a hot, hot summer, so sue me,_ she thinks to herself. 

  
  


“I crave and crave till it almost hurts,” he murmurs and licks his lips. “…and then… I cave.” 

She takes a breath, shudders on the exhale. Her nipples harden under his gaze, she can feel them tauten and strain against the fabric of her vest. _It’s a bit cold in the kitchen, so sue me!_ Yes, she knows that makes no sense; it _is_ a hot, hot summer. But she needs the excuse to insulate her from her body’s worst instincts. Because, maybe the way his eyes have been flicking between her mouth and her breasts is making her nipples pebble-hard.

  
  


“Come taste it,” she thinks he says. Elizabeth drifts closer. He’s holding up the spoon, gingerly balancing a little piece of the peaches and a lot of vanilla ice-cream. She thinks that he must have added more raspberry sauce to his bowl; but she’s not really thinking. It’s more like her mind is just idly noting things and storing them away for her to obsess about later. 

  
  


_Later_. Later, she tells herself, that he had woven her a spell; that he had lured her with the light and the shadow, enthralled her with the husk in his voice and sprung the trap with the sweets on his spoon. She leans in; Rio draws the spoon back towards him. Utterly helpless to stop herself, she follows it. When it’s an inch from his face, he lets her have it; she opens her mouth, bites and his mouth is on hers. 

  
  


**Brio:** _Got the music in you baby, tell me why_

_You’ve been locked in here forever_

_and you just can’t say goodbye_

_\--_

_Your lips, my lips; Apocalypse_

_Come out and haunt me,_

_I know you want me_

_I know you want me_

**Mood Music Credit: Your Lips, My Lips, Apocalypse** by **Cigarettes After Sex**

Rio kisses her like he just wants to taste the ice-cream; like he’s savoring it, _her_. He slips his tongue into Elizabeth's mouth, licks and nips at her, and draws her still-parted lips between his teeth then deepens the kiss until she’s breathless. She feels his hands push her hair out of her face and slide back to tangle into her hair; he makes a sound; long, low, throaty, satisfied and she moans into his mouth. 

  
  


_Everything_. 

That’s what this kiss feels like to him; like everything. 

  
  


_Everything;_

Like feelings, ripped out of his chest and shoved back down his throat, like emotions ghosting over his skin and flaying him, hurting him...caressing him, healing him. Relief meets anguish between them; anticipation-dread; exhilaration-paralysing fear; a mawing hunger in him gives way to fierce satisfaction; pleasure edges out into exquisite pain; a terrible rage and a frightful calm exist in unity. 

  
  


_Everything;_

Like this is the Time of war but they’ve somehow found a place of truce; a fragile bank in the sands of Time in which nothing else exists but _him and her and them_. Like all Time stops; like all Time hurtles on around them. Like they’re standing still; like they’re rushing headlong to inevitability. 

  
  


_Everything;_

Like the taste of sex that is about to happen; like hunger and need and longing already sated; like the distant memory of lust from a future that he has never yet been in; like the anticipation of a familiar wanton desire from days and months and years before; like the past and the present and the future are filled with his craving for Elizabeth; for the soft touch of her mouth on his.

  
  


_Everything;_

Like every feeling he has ever had for her coalesced and took form and is now the shape of the space between their mouths; like he is breathing them in off her and swallowing them down. And all the while, Rio tastes vanilla and peaches but in his mind she tastes of bourbon and strawberry like the first time he ever kissed her; and his chest is aching, aching and aching and her mouth is so, so, so sweet for him. 

  
  


_Everything;_

It’s not what he wants; he fuckin’ hates it. But it’s what he gets; he fuckin’ loves it.

He’ll take it. 

  
  


He’s whispering against her mouth and she can’t make out the words, but she can hear her name. _Elizabeth, Elizabeth_ …like a hopeless incantation in the dark. “Make me remember.” She wants to but she doesn’t dare ask him “ _What?”_ Then the words are lost in the tangle of their lips and she thinks she’s drowning in him and she hadn’t thought anything would ever feel this good again. 

The clatter of the spoon falling to the floor makes her jump. The spell breaks. Time snaps back to the present. She wants to sob. 

  
  


Still, Rio pulls her closer again. She leans back into him. That’s when she smells it; the scent of another woman on him. 

She chokes, sputters; takes a breath and it’s unmistakable; he smells of someone else’s perfume; a floral scent that she can’t deceive herself is his. She pushes herself off him. His eyes blink open; he looks quizzically at her. “What, mama?” 

  
  


She hates herself. She hates how much like a jealous wife she sounds but the words spill out anyway. “You smell of someone else,” she spits at him. 

“Yeah? He sounds vaguely surprised but like he’s too tired to care and that riles her up even more. “Do I?”

“Yes! You should leave,” she grits out. 

“Should I?” 

What is this childish game? Is he just going to keep repeating her words to him?

  
  


“Yeah! Maybe you can go wake her up in the dead of night and eat _her_ ice-cream.” Elizabeth cringes even as the words leave her mouth but there! It’s too late. She can’t take them back now. 

“Yeah, mami? You want me to do that?” he drawls, slow and low. “’Cause I don’t wanna do that.” He must be really out of it because his eyelids start to droop.

  
  


“Hey, you don’t get to fall asleep here.” She’s yelling at him quietly. 

“I’ll go.” Rio says, lifts his hands, palms out in surrender. He stands, clears his throat, forces his eyes fully open. And she knows that he’s had a few drinks but mostly she thinks he is just tired; he looks tired. So when he reaches for his car keys, she claps her hand over them. 

  
  


“You can’t drive in that state,” she sounds disgusted at him but inside, her heart is restless, filled with something like trepidation and anxiety and a secret thrill that he’s here…but he smells of another woman and that makes her irrationally angry so she points him to her bedroom, hands him a towel and pushes him into the bathroom. 

چوچو  
  


**_Sugar; Spice; Die_ **

That was unbelievable; I wanna do it again; 

I’ll eat you like a cannibal; You’re sweet like cinnamon

Tell me all your dreams and darkest fantasies

Oh, oh

**Mood Music Credit: Sex By Cheat Codes**

He’s in there a long time. Eventually, Beth knocks softly and pops her head in; Rio is standing under the shower, one hand braced against the tiles and he is shivering. 

“Rio, you okay?” she walks in and draws him out. “Jesus! The water’s freezing. _You_ are freezing. What are you doing?” She can hear a shrill note creep into her voice and she stops talking. He doesn’t need to be babied.

  
  


“Trying to get myself to wake up and…” Rio trails off but looks pointedly down. She looks down at him and blushes furiously. Despite the fact that he is shivering, he is half-hard. She turns and walks out, escapes to the kitchen. He chuckles behind her, a softly mocking sound that makes her toes curl. 

  
  


She doesn’t know what she is expecting; maybe that he will somehow get in her bed and just go to sleep and she can hide out in the kitchen until he’s asleep and it’s ‘safe’ to go in. She knows it’s childish, puerile even to want to run away from him. It’s just that -she gulps- she has seen that look in his eyes before; and now he’s shivering but he’s still half-hard; and she knows what’s coming if she lets herself anywhere near him; and _God!_ Have her panties ever been this wet?

  
  


Whatever she’s been expecting, it’s not for him to come padding barefoot into the kitchen, the towel slung low on his lean hips. In the light spilling into the kitchen from the dining room, she can see that he’s got more than the 3 scars she had expected to see; over his right clavicle is a long thin line stretching to his shoulder; _from surgery,_ she thinks _._ On the left side of his chest, there are three 1-inch surgical scars and three similar ones below his ribs. There is also a short jagged scar; puckered and pinker than the rest; _from the night I stabbed him. So much hurt,_ Elizabeth realizes. _I caused that._ She feels sick looking at them; nauseous. So she looks away from his chest. 

  
  


Her gaze falls involuntarily to the lines of his obliques; they draw the eye down; he’s not _half_ -hard anymore. Heat erupts on her face; he sees it and laughs teasingly at her again. 

  
  


“You can’t walk around like that,” she hisses. “What if the kids come down?” It’s a transparent attempt to distract from the fact that she is hot and bothered. 

Rio laughs again; low and warm…her skin tingles with the sound of it. “Darling, we both know they’re not home…and neither is he.” _Fuckin’ Carman._ At the bar, Mick had told him that Dean and the kids had left in the early evening.

The thought of Elizabeth asleep alone in her bed had teased him; tortured him; made him unable to think except of her naked, coming for him in that bed like she had done when he had fucked her in it. He hadn't even been put off by the memory of her kicking him out of her bed. What had followed had been the longest hour of his life till he could plead exhaustion and leave Mick at the bar. So what if he just wanted to see Elizabeth just once outside of business? 

  
  


There are drops of water caught in his hair and eyelashes. She feels a ridiculous urge to kiss them off him so she balls her hands into fists and steps around the island to the sink, putting a little more space between them.

“You should sleep,” she says. 

“Couch?” Rio quirks an eyebrow at her. 

“Bed,” she offers blushing. 

“Yeah? You coming?” He doesn’t give her a chance to respond; he huffs out a breath. “How long before you kick me out, mama?” and though his voice is soft, it is wreathed in bitterness. Elizabeth's hand comes up to her mouth; she almost bites her nail but catches herself, gnaws on her lip instead. 

  
  


“I’ll take the couch,” he says. “Thanks, mama.” But he doesn’t move to take it. He just stands there, watching her. She squirms, “Rio, I didn’t…” She’s not sure what she wants to say.

He shakes his head, cuts her off. “Nah, mami. Not any of that tonight. Let’s keep it simple, yeah?”

  
  


The silence stretches on and on, seemingly interminable…it builds and builds until it is a near solid thing pulsating between them and suddenly, Rio’s coming around the island for her and she thinks she meets him halfway; and his towel is on the floor and her legs are wrapped around his waist and his face is pressed to her breasts. 

  
  


He’s tearing off her vest as soon as he puts her on the island. He pauses; swallows. _Christ! She is lovely! Was she always this way? Yes, yes,_ he knows. _She’s always been so…_ He palms her tits, takes the weight of them in his hands, pushes them together. _Fuck! They are fuckin’ beautiful! Were they always so perfect?_ They’re so full; so heavy; milky white orbs with dusky veins barely visible in the dim light; and the nipples! He’s never been this hard. 

  
  


He palms them roughly, squeezes; she moans for him. _Fuck!_ He takes one rose-hued bud in his mouth, pulls it in, sucks on it. He wants her so bad. He’s got a thousand things he wants to do to her; he doesn’t have the time for it all but he can tick one or two off. 

  
  


When he starts tugging her pants off, Elizabeth winds her legs tight around him and he lifts her off the island; pulls them off. Then he’s pushing her back onto the island and he’s got one nipple in his mouth again and the other is hard under his roughly circling thumb. 

  
  


He wants more hands, more mouths; there’s not enough of him to take her in at once. He has wanted her for so long, so much, so hard on so many nights that he feels a bit wild, a bit out of control, a bit savage now; once he’s in her, he won’t last long. So he figures he has got to draw this out; get her over her peak a couple of times before he lets himself have her. Not losing control is the hardest thing he has done in a while. 

  
  


Elizabeth’s pressing herself closer and closer into his body. And every time her bottom brushes his cock, every hair on his body stands on end and he wants to groan. His cock is begging for release. So he pushes her farther away, lays her flat on the island; bends over her; holds her in place and bites small bruises into the swell of her other breast. 

  
  


She wiggles her hips and mewls for him to let her closer to his body. He is relentless; he pins her in place and just keeps on sucking little red marks onto her tits until he is satisfied with his handiwork. There; she has been branded. She’s his. _His_ girl. _His_ Elizabeth. _Goddamnit! She’s his and she had better not forget it._ He has got malice on his mind when he catches himself hoping that Dean sees the bites. _Fuckin’ Carman_. 

  
  


When he’s good and done worshipping her tits, he drops hot little kisses in a trail down her belly. He hesitates; thinks about her being pregnant and choosing not to keep it; wonders who had held her hand when she went through with it. Annie? Ruby? Had she been alone? He feels sad all of a sudden. His throat feels tight; his eyes sting. Then he pushes the feeling down; to that dark place inside where he shoves all his feelings about her; to that place which he keeps locked tight and secure even from himself. Sometimes a feeling escapes and he has to scramble to chase it down and squash it or shove it back in before he gets too close a look at it. He pushes the sadness all the way down. 

  
  


She whines when his mouth first brushes her cunt. Then she goes wild; her hips buck, brush against him and he steps back, stares her down and growls, “Stop it, Elizabeth.” She really tries to hold still. Her thighs quiver under his palms, her hips move in miniscule little jerks and her fists are clenched tight by her side. And he is giddy with how bad she wants him too and so he gives it to her; the first orgasm he’s given her since _Before_ the world went to hell; quick and hard with his tongue on her clitoris. 

  
  


She comes undone; he loves it. Her hips cant into his face wanting more, her hands scrabble for purchase but there’s nothing for her to hold onto so she cries out. Rio's ready for her when she does it; that thing she does where her thighs lock around his head and he slips his hands under her ass and pulls her harder into his face, his tongue probing deep into her. Her climax ends with another husky cry. _Fuck!_ He loves the sounds she makes for him. He comes up gasping for breath; when she does it, it always feels like he’s drowning. _Christ! That's a good feeling._ He feels pre-cum leak out the head of his cock. He’s not going to hold on much longer, he thinks. 

  
  


Rio picks her up; she’s boneless. He strides into the bedroom; He’s ready to exorcise this particular demon. He’s going to fuck her in her bed again and when they are done, so help him, if Elizabeth kicks him out again, they’re going to have it out.

چوچو  
  


**_Just Another Low-Key Masochist_ **

That was unforgettable; I wanna do it again

You’re crazy like an animal; And I don’t want it to end

Tell me all your dreams and darkest fantasies

Let’s talk about you and me

**Mood Music Credit: Sex By Cheat Codes**

  
  


Rio tosses her onto the bed; she bounces, giggles. Then he flips her, pins her to the bed, face down. He splays his hands, twines his fingers through hers just like he knows she likes. She raises her head, wriggles; she wants to see him. He bites her. Every time she moves, he nips her. Rio marks his way down her body; licking it, soothing each bite with a kiss and then doing it again. She’s going to have hickeys all over. She protests but is secretly exhilarated because she knows what he is doing; he’s marking her for his own. He’s glad both nightstand lights are on; he likes seeing the bruises he’s leaving on her. 

  
  


When Rio smacks her ass, Elizabeth squeals then laughs. He smacks her again; she giggles, and lifts her ass to him. She wants him to do it again. Then the thought crosses her mind that maybe he had done this with the other woman earlier tonight and she is annoyed; and she’s ashamed that she’s annoyed… and she’s hot and bothered and turned on by the thought anyway. She hates it.

  
  


“Was she pretty?” She wants to die when the words come out but she has to know. 

He’s kissing a hickey onto the swell of her ass. He freezes; he is barely breathing, his lips lightly brushing her skin. She twists her head to look at him over her shoulder. She meets his gaze; something in his eyes twists, shifts, glints. His voice is slow, deliberate, insolent when he asks her, “Why? You jealous, mama?”

  
  


And she feels furious and ashamed and he is still poised above her and watching her with hooded eyes so she flushes crimson and it drifts down her face and neck and he sees it and laughs, a soft smug sound. She scoffs, “As if!” It sounds a bit weak.

  
  


“Say you’re jealous, mama and I won’t tease you.” Rio’s voice is warm, but there’s a dangerous little edge to it. 

“Not even a little,” she insists. 

“Oh, okay then, darling. So you won’t mind if I tell you how pretty she was.” He pushes her down, rubs his penis between her ass-cheeks. She can feel the pre-cum leave little slick trails on her. She whimpers. 

  
  


“She was pretty, mami…Nice body, long legs…” Elizabeth is livid on the inside and she thinks she wants to die.

“Long hair, darling. Auburn; long like up to here…” He drags his fingers through her golden curls and keeps going down her neck, below her shoulders; trails his fingers down her back and all the while he watches her. She tears her gaze from him. He kisses her where his fingers stop.

  
  


“Tiny little waist, mama.” He is whispering, malicious, gleeful. He flips her over. “I wanna see your face, darling.” She closes her eyes. 

“Open,” Rio demands. She doesn’t want to. She does anyway. She looks into his eyes. His pupils are wide with lust; like he is remembering the girl and like it’s turning him on. Suddenly, she doesn’t think she wants to have him in her bed. But her body is doing the thinking because she is so wet and her nipples are so taut they hurt and she’s writhing beneath him. 

  
  


He straddles her; kisses her neck, drifts down with parted lips, leaves a fresh trail of pain and pleasure then he leans over her and brushes her breasts with his knuckles, “She had nice tits; Small…firm…perky even.” Elizabeth is so mad she claps her hands over her breasts and tries to push his hands away. He brushes kisses across the top of her twin orbs and on her fingers.

  
  


“Nah, mami. You want me to stop, you know what you gotta do. What you got say.” He’s got a savage glitter in his eye. She closes her eyes.

“Open, Elizabeth,” Rio demands again. She shakes her head. “I’m not touching you again, darling. Not until you open those beautiful blue eyes. I wanna see that hurt.” 

“I’m not hurt,” she tries to scoff. It sounds weak again; that infuriates her more. She’s not going to give him the satisfaction. So she opens her eyes and stares brazenly at him. 

  
  


“Mmmmh, mami. Just like that.” 

She notices that his cock is lying heavily on her belly and every so often, it twitches, lifts off her. He is so hard and heavy, that she shivers then curses in her head. Her mind is treating her to visions of him between someone else’s legs. So why is she soaking wet?

  
  


“I licked those tits, babe. Like this…” Rio grabs hers, squeezes roughly, bites, licks, tastes, flicks his tongue over one nipple and his thumb over the other. Despite her own best efforts, she whines, a long achy sound above his head. He lifts his eyes to her face. She glares at him. He laughs at her. “Jealous yet, sweetheart?”

  
  


Elizabeth shakes her head. Rio keeps kissing her breasts, rubbing his beard on them, until they are bruised and almost sore. Then he spans his hands across her waist, and a hint of perverse pleasure laces his murmur when he tells her, “Her waist was so small…and you know what, mama? She wanted me to come all over her belly.” She’s at once so turned on, so angry that she hits him; with the heels of both hands, she hits him in the chest and shoves him. He doesn’t budge, just laughs at her. 

  
  


“Goddamn! My baby’s a low-key masochist.” He kisses her belly, licks inside her belly button. She gulps. “Make it stop, Elizabeth. Make it stop, darling.” She glares daggers at him but says nothing. 

  
  


“No? Okay…She wanted me to come all over her, darling. Wanted me to make her _dirty_.” He lingers over the word dirty, rolls it out, and his voice is a low and filthy thing. The ache between her legs intensifies. 

  
  


The mewl gets away from her. She bites her lips. He brushes them with his and whispers against her mouth, “But I made her come first.” Her eyes widen, squeeze shut, open. He slips a hand between her legs, pushes her thighs apart, slips one finger inside her. She shivers. She’s so so so slick, it almost unravels him. 

  
  


She hears him swallow then he chuckles softly next to her ear, “Look at you, Elizabeth; such a sweet, shameless and wanton thing you are for me!” He thrusts two fingers roughly inside her; she cries out, arches her back. “Mmmmmmm,” Rio hums. “Mmmh, mami. Just like that. That’s what she did too. Do it again, mama. Do it again for me.”

  
  


She freezes. Holds her breath. Tries to stop writhing. Refuses to give him any more of a reaction. His fingers slip in and out of her; gentle and slow and then more firmly; he touches her clit, rubs his thumb over the swollen nub and then says the thing that breaks her;

“You wanna know how I made her tight little cunt come?”

  
  


“I hate you!” she grits out. 

Surprise flashes across Rio's face, then it’s gone and he laughs at her, “Mmmmh, You must be real mad, mama.” He kisses her neck. “Why? Don’t want me to smell of another woman?” he mocks softly. 

“Don’t want me to put my fingers in her hot cunt and make her come?” 

  
  


Beth sobs with rage and frustration; sobs with need. _She_ wants to come; _she_ wants to come for him. He holds her hips down and says, “If you want to come, Elizabeth…tell me the truth. You mad, Elizabeth darling? You jealous, sweetheart? Open your sweet, sweet mouth and say it.”

She shakes her head, seething, afraid to open her mouth because every few breaths, she feels a shaky whimper trying to escape. 

  
  


He chuckles, something dark and dangerous and dripping with sex. “Darling wants me to hurt her more…” She wriggles beneath him; he doesn’t move. 

“I don’t care who you do what with…” He crooks his fingers inside of her. She gasps. 

“Such a sweet, _sweet lying mouth_!” He does it again. She’s on the edge of her of her climax when he whispers at her, “Say it, mama. Let me make you happy, mama.” She wants to say it; she is desperate to. But if she does she loses this game. 

  
  


“No.” she grits out from between clenched teeth but tears are forming in her eyes and she starts to think maybe she really does hate him because the thought of him doing to someone else what he’s doing to her makes her want to kill something. _Him. Preferably._

  
  


Rio rubs his cock from her slit to her nub and says, “Her pussy was needy for me too; just like yours.” She shoves him, he pulls her closer; kisses her; tells her, “Make it stop, Elizabeth. Make it stop, darling. Before I tell you how I crooked my fingers in her and rubbed her clit and she wailed for me. She wailed for me to let her come and she begged me; big needy eyes in her face begging me, darling, to put my dick in her.”

  
  


Elizabeth groans. It’s a pained sound. It’s torn from her by a terrible brew of lust and anger; because she despises this game they’re playing and she doesn’t want to hear about another woman; but still she can’t help picturing Rio making some unknown faceless woman beg and now _she,_ Beth, wants to beg him. But she bites her lip instead until she tastes copper. 

  
  


He whispers, his voice so hoarse, rough, “She wanted me to come in her, baby.”

“I don’t care! Go back to her if you want her so bad.” 

Rio laughs.

  
  


“Answer me and I’ll let you come, mami. I’ll fill you up with my cock and it’ll make you happy and I’ll push it into you and I’ll hurt you with it just the way you like, and I’ll make you cry from it and you’ll love it. And then, I’ll come in you.” 

She feels the flutter start. She’s about to come but she doesn’t want it like this. She wants what he told her. Exactly as he has told her. He pulls his fingers out; she sobs. 

  
  


“Say it, Elizabeth!” he demands

“No.” 

“Say it or I won’t make you come tonight. Say it, darling so it can stop hurting and start hurting _good_.”

  
  


“I am,” she gasps out; angry and frustrated and desperate for him. 

Rio laughs, triumphant. “Say it right, darling.” 

“Nooooo…” she keens. “I don’t want to, Rio. I don’t…”

“You don’t want me to stop, baby? You don’t want me to stop hurting you with my words and hurt you with my body? Say it, sweetheart.” Rio is unrelenting.

  
  


“I’m jealous…I’m jealous.” The words are the hoarse cry of her tortured body grasping for relief. 

“Beg for it, baby like she begged for it.” Now he’s just fuckin’ with her. 

But she’s too far gone to resist it; she just caves. “Please, Rio. Please, Rio.” She’s keening now, writhing, frantic with want and feeling the beginning of an orgasm. She doesn’t want it. She doesn’t want it if he’s not in her. She doesn’t want it like this. She wants him inside her, hurting her so good; just like he said he would.

  
  


“Please Rio, what, mami?”

“I want yoouuuuu!” She wails.

He rams into her then; merciless and rough, he pushes into her and drives deep; holding down her hips so she can’t move; and by the second thrust, she already coming and sobbing and she’s got tears in her eyes; and Rio rides her like it’s a race to the finish and maybe it is but they get there together. 

  
  


And she shivers and gasps and quivers in his arms and tightens around him and he watches her; his lips parted slightly; taking little shuddering breaths of his own and whispering, “Christ, you’re so beautiful! Just like that. **Die that little death for me, darling.** ” 

  
  


And when she comes down, she is furious all over again and she thinks that no one has ever made her beg and maybe she hates him for it. So she says, “I hate you.” There’s no heat in it. 

Then Beth thinks that, no _;_ _no one has ever made her beg for it and it has never felt so good_. She trembles underneath him and he’s smiling when he says, “Yeah? Me too, mami.”

And she catches herself thinking, _Maybe I’m scared but I don’t care. I’m addicted._

چوچو

**_Hate Me in Ways; Ways Hard to Swallow_ **

**Beth:** _Lies, tell me lies, baby, tell me how you hate me_

_It's a thin line between all this love and hate_

_And if you switch sides, you're gon' have to claim your place_

_So baby, this time you're gon' have to seal your fate_

\--

**Rio:** _You could fucking hate me, and I would say I love you_

_You could act just like that, I'm right here_

_You can try to break me, and I would say I love you_

_I know I'm fucking broken, I'm right here_

**Mood Music Credit: Hate Me by Ellie Goulding**

**Hate Me by Masn**

  
  
  


Then an unexpected thing happens. 

  
  


Her voice is curious; small and strangled like she’s not got enough air when she says, “Do you only hate me?” Rio hears the question; realizes that her question could actually be two questions; “Do you hate me alone? Do you only feel hate for me? and he wonders which one she means but then he thinks maybe both but it doesn’t matter because the answer is the same. He doesn’t hate her. He feels a lot of things but none of them is hate. 

And things would be so much easier if he could only bring himself to hate her. _It’s so hard. It’s all so hard to do._

And that dark and secret place inside where he’s been shoving all Elizabeth-feelings since the Night she shot him breaks open; and those emotional moles are all loose and popping up all at once; and he can’t smash hard enough or fast enough.

  
  


And now it doesn’t feel light or fun or easy but then it’s never been; because this is Elizabeth; _Goddamn, Elizabeth_ and _when has she ever made anything easy for me?_ he thinks. And he has always known that she will never make it easy and maybe he doesn’t want easy any more. Maybe he’s ready for hard. Maybe he can take the difficult and not-easy. Maybe he still wishes she were still pregnant and why did she not keep his baby? Maybe he wants to ask her but maybe he’s not sure he can take what she’ll say. _Christ! This is so hard._ Maybe he just wants her. Why is nothing with her ever easy? _Goddamn, Elizabeth._ Maybe he still wants her anyway. So he closes his eyes and drops his chin to her shoulder, puts his face in her hair and breathes her in. _Cherry blossom._

  
  


He is kissing her neck, trying to tell her without words the answer to her question, when he feels a wetness on his cheek. _Fuck!_ He raises his head, looks her in the eye and she shuts them tight. “Elizabeth…” She shakes her head at him, eyes shut but then another tear slips out. He thinks of the night when she had been putting up a stolen STOP sign. She had cried then too. He tucks her hair behind her ear; he doesn’t need to do it –her hair is not in her face at all- but he’s been doing it so long that he thinks maybe it comforts her. Him too, to be honest. 

  
  


Only now, more tears spill out; Rio catches them on his thumb. He feels like the worst kind of asshole; the accidental asshole. Like it is okay if you _decide_ to be a jerk for a reason. But finding out that you’re just a random jerk when you don’t even mean to be, that’s pathetic. He wants to kick himself; he realizes now that he had probably pushed her too far telling her about the girl from earlier tonight. He wants to curse; he could have sworn she had enjoyed herself; hated being jealous but loved it just the same. 

  
  


Rio holds her chin, tells her to open her eyes. When she does, he just looks at her; he’s not sure what he’s waiting for but he knows that if he gives her enough time, she always talks. “It’s just so hard.” Her voice is barely a whisper. _STOP sign!_ he thinks again. He’s been here _Before;_ had this conversation _Before._ This isn’t about tonight. He feels like less of an asshole for all of 2 seconds then he realizes; _he_ made it hard and he is _going_ to keep on making it hard. He’s still the asshole.

  
  


And this night is just a temporary ceasefire; a truce. Not an armistice; not a laying down of arms; not an ending to the war between them. And they don’t even get to sue for peace tonight; not as things stand. Reparations must be paid; in full. He’s going to be ruthless in exacting them. He knows what he wants from her; what he needs; _restitution, rehabilitation, compensation, satisfaction_ and her _guarantee_ that it won’t happen again; 

  
  


His kingdom is in pieces because of her; he will take it back but it’s on her to _make it whole_.

They aren’t what they were _Before_ ; she is going to have to _earn his trust again_ ; and that is going to be hard because every time he looks away, she is figuring out some new way to screw him over.

She can never give _recompense_ for shooting him - _and leaving me dying on the floor-_ but maybe he can forgive her someday. Just not now.

Rio wants her to apologise; and fuckin’ mean it. But she could be sorry every day, all day long for shooting him but because she doesn’t know that it killed him more to watch her walking away while he drowned in his own blood, she still wouldn’t be sorry enough for him. And he still won’t be _satisfied_. Plus, if she ever apologizes, he doesn’t want to hear it while she’s soft and warm in his arms. He wants her to be sorry in the cold hard light of day.

He wants a _guarantee_ that she won’t do it again; he _knows_ he won’t get it. She is afraid of him now and she needs to be. But that fear has become a double-edged sword; he knows she meant it when she said that if she’s afraid enough, she will _kill him or die trying._

  
  


He struggles to find something of comfort; everything looks stark. Only one thing hasn’t changed between them. She’s still _his_ Elizabeth. Of all the conflicted feelings that co-exist in him about her, this is the only one that has no antithesis; she is his. She belongs to him; in all the ways that matter. Not even when she almost killed him did that change; if anything, he felt it stronger. He knows it, she knows it; they both know it. _You are mine, mama,_ Rio thinks to himself. 

  
  


So he repeats her question back at her, “Do you only hate me, mama?” He hates how much he cares what she says. But Elizabeth says nothing. She says nothing because if she opens her mouth, she’s afraid she’ll tell him she thinks she’s loved him since the day he had brushed her hair from her face with one hand and still shot her husband with the other. So she bites her lip and says nothing.

  
  


Instead, her eyes are searching his and he wants to look away because he sees something in hers that he has never seen in anyone’s eyes before; something like pain and something like relief. Something like hurt and something like almost-joy. Something like almost-hate. Something like almost-love. Something like everything in between. 

  
  


And now he’s afraid; because his heart is beating and beating; and it shouldn’t be; not for her; not after everything. And he wishes his baby’s heart were still beating inside of her; and he knows that’s futile and foolish; but he could almost cry…or laugh…or something; maybe both. So he says the one thing he knows to be true and hopes that it’s enough for her.

  
  


“Yeah, mami. We’re a fuckin’ mess, you and I. There’s a whole lot of things wrong between us and yes, I know this is war. And I know you’re not going to stand down; and you know I’m not going to stand down either. But I’m here; like a moth to your flame, Elizabeth. Can that be enough for tonight?” 

  
  


She nods and tries to smile at him but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. So he says as he kisses her, “I didn’t fuck her.” He is sorry for the F-words he’s used around her tonight but she doesn’t look offended. Her eyes widen; she looks surprised and uncertain. He laughs, “What? You’re surprised?”

  
  


She smiles at him for real, “Maybe.”

“You and me both, sweetheart.” 

And she’s greedy because now she’s fishing for why. “Why not?”

“Don’t know. I just didn’t wanna.”

And she’s doubly greedy because now she really wants to know why. “Why not?”

Rio laughs again, “Why? You still jealous, mama?”

She scoffs. “As if.” It _doesn’t_ sound weak. 

“Told you I wanted your ice-cream.” 

  
  


And Rio shoves all his feelings away to that secret place. All except one; _he’s happy she’s still his._ So he pulls her on top of him. And it’s 3.19am and they’ve got 2 more hours before sunrise; 2 hours before war breaks out again. And maybe he’ll be lucky and Time might bend and slow down for her like it does sometimes.

چوچو

And there’s ice-cream in the kitchen.

And pie. 

And a beautiful woman on top of him. 

Elizabeth.

And she’s _his_.

Even if it’s just tonight. 

He’ll take it. 

He fuckin’ loves it. 


	17. The Associates 1; Mei

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet one of Rio's associates. Business had been good. Now he owes her. Debts must be paid. 
> 
> “5.8 million that you lost when I was away. 0.5 for your patience,” Rio says to her. 
> 
> “I’ve never been accused of being patient before,” she giggles.
> 
> “And yet, here we are. So evidently, you’re patient enough...”

* * *

**_The Associates 1; Mei_ **

She is beautiful enough that even Rio sometimes gets distracted. She is petite and gorgeous with a sweetheart face, small hands, tiny feet. Her eyes are huge and her make-up is always done up to draw attention to them. She has a certain way of looking up at one as she speaks that makes her look like a doe; she tilts her neck, exposes it while looking up at one; in a way that makes one feel…strangely protective. Rio knows that it’s cultivated; that fragile appearance that makes men want to protect her. She doesn’t need protecting. 

  
  
  


He doesn’t know how old she is; he thinks she could be 35, give or take 5 years. And that surprises him; his inability to decide how old she is. He thinks it should be easy enough to say if she’s closer to 30 or to 40 but it is not... not with _her_. 

  
  
  


She is American. But Rio knows she is also Asian. He doesn’t know from what country; he can never decide for sure. Sometimes her manner _seems_ Japanese; other times, he could almost swear she is Chinese. Sometimes, she’s dressed as though she is Korean, maybe Philippine or Vietnamese and she is speaking the language with ease. And he is back to not knowing. It too is cultivated; the appearance that makes one unable to label her, put her in a box and know her. 

  
  
  


He has heard her speak at least 5 languages other than English. She is fluent in Japanese, Vietnamese and Korean. He knows she speaks Mandarin and Cantonese, as well as 2 other dialects; he thinks Xiang but he can’t place the other. She drops honeyed-words in Cantonese as easily as she curses in English. 

  
  
  


She likes to have meetings in the setting of ancient Asian ceremonies. One day, they will discuss business over a Japanese tea ceremony; another day over sake and evidently, today, over baijiu. She delights in it; this game she plays. Rio has seen other men irritated by her; by her games, and he knows she holds it against them. Business doesn’t go so well if you don’t play along. He plays along; enjoys it actually. She rewards him every time. She’ll do for him a lot that she won’t do for many other people. 

  
  
  


She’s a study in contradictions; on one day, she’ll be wearing a traditional kimono; another day, a silk tunic with pants like the Vietnamese ceremonial dress; Rio thinks it’s called the _ao dai._ Another day, she’s in a grey business suit and she could disappear into any American city and you wouldn’t notice her. _Nah_ , Rio thinks, _you still would_ ; she’s too beautiful to go unnoticed. It throws people off balance; how she shapeshifts. It disconcerts them; makes them easy pickings for her when she shifts to business. But _he_ likes the games she plays; he plays right along. So he’s never really off-balance.

  
  
  


He knows what she is doing; respects it. She does it deliberately; this game of chameleon; this playing at Metis that she does. No one knows who she really is. She refuses to be labelled; it increases her mystery; makes her harder to describe; makes it almost impossible to find her unless she wants you to. It adds to her allure and keeps her an enigma; makes her unknown, unknowable. It’s part of her power; She is anything and anyone, everything and everyone and nothing and no one. 

  
  
  


Rio calls her Mei because that is the name by which she had introduced herself four years ago. He’s heard her called by several other names; Hoa, Nuwa, Chesa. It’s almost as though she introduces herself by a different name to each person she meets. He sometimes wonders what her real name is; any of the ones he has heard? None of the ones he has heard? All of them? It doesn’t matter. He calls her Mei and she seems to like it.

  
  
  


He, Mick and Dags drive up to the hangar half an hour before their intended meeting time. Dags scouts the place. Rio’s inside-man at airport security had allowed in the duffel of cash and Rio’s gun. He wasn’t about to meet Mei without a weapon on him. 

  
  
  


The hangar-door opens and her gulfstream rolls out onto the tarmac. She must be leaving soon. He walks into the hangar, Mick by his side. It’s cold. Dags waits outside; makes sure they don’t get ambushed. This meeting could go either way; she had lost a lot of money when he had been out of commission and unable to take shipments from her. Rio has got to pay off this debt; make things right with her. Then maybe they can get back to making money together. 

  
  
  


He doubts she is happy; but he’s come armed for her. He is perfectly groomed. He is wearing a black suit, a black dress shirt. The tie is his secret weapon; a pale grey silk tie that in certain light almost looks white. He knows the tie will draw her eye up to the eagle on his neck. It fascinates her; the eagle. 

He has done something that to anyone but him appears accidental but is in fact, very deliberate; he is wearing his tie precisely 1 inch too long such that instead of barely brushing his belt, it falls over his belt buckle. Rio knows Mei; she is a stickler for the small things and this will drive her crazy. Once she sees it, she won’t be able to unsee it. Her gaze will be drawn there over and over again. She wants him; he will make her look. He is not above charming her; she is not above letting him.

  
  
  


He walks right up to her; steps one step into her personal space, not too close that it’s rude. Just close enough that he is taking up her space and she is fully aware of him. She looks up at him; those big eyes wide in her face. It almost makes him forget how ruthless she can be; he gets distracted for a moment. But he thinks, _he_ is good-looking enough that sometimes _she_ gets distracted. Her lip twitches in an-almost smile then she bites it off. He is not above using it; she is not above letting him.

  
  
  


“Hello, Mei,” he pitches his voice deliberately low; lets it vibrate over her, warm and gravelly. 

She drops into a full curtsey; a very courtesan gesture if ever he saw one. She is dressed in a long _qipao_ and her slit falls open when she dips. Rio swallows hard; the eagle on his neck shifts; settles. 

  
  
  


Before he had met Mei, Rio had never understood the purpose of a curtsey. But now, every time Mei gives him one, he thinks he understands only too well. There is something about a gorgeous woman dropping nearly to her knees for you that makes a man feel…powerful. He feels a stirring of heat low in his belly; there goes his body. He shuts it down immediately. 

  
  
  


He drops his head in a small bow; his only concession to her stirring display of obeisance. It’s never good to let your guard down with her, he knows; best to keep your head up; keep your wits about you. He takes a step back as she starts to rise. His senses are keyed-up; he has seen her rise up out of a curtsey once, slip a hand into her sleeve and disembowel a man with one of those ceremonial short swords; a _liuye dao_ , he thinks it’s called. 

She is beautiful and deadly and he tries not to forget. 

  
  
  


“Rio-gōng,” she trills. 

He snaps to attention at the word, “gōng”.

“Mei, darling…I’m not dead yet. Not unless you want to try and kill me now.”

  
  


She laughs; a gorgeous, warm sound that raises the hairs on the nape of his neck. “ _Gōng_ is not just a mark of respect to the deceased; from ancient times, it also means _duke.”_

Rio holds her gaze, keeps a neutral expression. “Nah, Mei. Let’s keep it simple, darling. _xiānshēng_ it is. Or just Rio. Unless you want to try something.” 

  
  


She laughs up at him. “Always so serious, Rio-xiānshēng.” 

_Xiānshēng_ ; it simply means mister or sir. That’s better. She always adds an honorific. He doesn’t know why she does that; maybe it’s a relic of her culture? The need to demonstrate respect? 

  
  


_Nah!_ That doesn’t feel right; it’s one of the ways she disarms men. Makes them feel superior. Until she cuts them down to size; sometimes… **Literally**. 

_Xiānshēng;_ he knows when he is being played like a fiddle. But _she_ can play him; she’s got a soft touch. He likes it. 

  
  


He smiles at her, “Mmmmmh,” he hums. “That’s because you’re deadly, darling.”

She blushes, gratified; _deadly_ is a high compliment to her and she loves it when he calls her darling. She is captivated. Business will be good. 

  
  
  


He waits for her to sit; stands for just a beat too long; gives her time to look. Her eyes fall to his belt buckle and she blushes slightly. _Made you look, darling,_ he thinks. Rio smirks at her and she blushes again; she knows she has been caught. He is not above using it; she is not above letting him.

  
  
  


_Then_ , he drops into a chair across from her. “Mei, I’ve got to get straight to it; places to go, people to see.” He smiles insolently; he is giving her a chance to wheedle him. And then he will ‘cave’ and she will be pleased. See…he can play her little games.

  
  


She pouts, hits him with the eyes. “You, Americans! No respect for culture. Stay, have a drink. I’ll drink to your life…” She smiles, “Or to your death.”

He chuckles, “Darling, I don’t know how many times I gotta tell you; I’m not dead yet. Rumors of my death being what they are…greatly exaggerated and whatnot.” He waves a hand negligently at her. 

  
  
  


She pours 6 glasses of baijiu. There are only 4 people here; Rio, Mei, Mick and the man seated slightly behind her. She offers them all one, and picks hers.

“To renewing our business. Gānbēi,” she trills again. _Gānbēi_ ; it translates to _dry cup_ so they are expected to empty their glasses. They clink glasses; Mick and her man hold their glasses below 

hers and Rio’s; a mark of respect to their bosses. They all drain their glasses. Mick leans back.

  
  


There are 2 glasses left. She motions to Rio to pick one. He hesitates; this feels targeted. He just sits and watches her for a moment. Then he decides that the choice can’t be avoided. So he picks one. As she leans forward to pick the remaining glass, he hands her the one in his hand and swipes the one on the table for himself. She giggles; he doesn’t trust her and she knows it. 

  
  


“Wŏ gànle; nĭ suíyì.” She says then continues in English, “To your life and an honorable death in war…” She pauses, meets his eyes. “…at the hands of a man.” Her murmur is softly mocking.

  
  
  


Rio blinks; he has just been insulted. He counts the insults; his previous attempt at dying has been deemed dishonorable for happening not in active combat and even more so, for being nearly at the hands of a woman. Even the toast _Wŏ gànle; nĭ suíyì_ coming from anyone else would be an easy politeness; I drain my glass, drink at your leisure. But coming from _her, in this situation,_ it _feels_ like both an insult and a challenge. I drain my glass; can you match my pace? 

He curses. _Goddamn, Elizabeth!_

  
  
  


Then he thinks that he likes that they all underestimate Elizabeth, just like he had done; which had almost sent him to an early grave. He thinks Elizabeth would not now hesitate to empty a clip in Mei should the urgent need arise. He thinks she has, at least, learnt that lesson; to make doubly sure that her target is dead. And Mei would never see it coming. He smiles, _Who knew? Elizabeth could be the ace up my sleeve, after all._

  
  
  


He has been offered the chance to drink at his leisure but he is not about to take it. “Mei,” he inclines his head in another small bow, leans forward, clinks his glass to hers; makes damn sure that the mouth of her glass is lower than hers; a return on her insult to him. 

He drains his glass.

  
  


She laughs that warm laugh again, “Rio-xiānshēng, you are bold to still think you have more power than me.” He smiles, feigns ignorance of the meaning of his actions; they both know it is pretence. She knows that he knows that by holding his glass higher than hers, he has labelled her subordinate to him. Then Rio’s face goes stony and his eyes are locked on hers when he says, “More power? Here in Detroit, absolutely. And don’t you forget it, darling.” He is satisfied by the shudder that she tries but can’t quite manage to hide. 

  
  
  


“Business, then.” He nods a silent command and leans back in his chair. Mick swings the duffel bag of money onto the table. It’s heavy. Her man opens it. She raises an eyebrow at Rio.

“6.3 million,” he says. 

Her eyebrow quirks higher. 

  
  
  


“5.8 million that you lost when I was away. 0.5 for your patience.” 

“I’ve never been accused of being patient before,” she giggles.

“And yet, here we are. So evidently, you’re patient enough… _for me.”_ Rio rolls out the words “ _for me_ ”, holds them long and soft in his mouth, lays them gently on her. 

She blushes and tries to hide the small shiver than runs through her.

  
  
  


“A fitting apology for the business we lost while you were…dead,” she accepts the bag.

Rio retorts, “As you see, here I am; still standing. Let’s make some money; what d’you say?”

  
  
  


She drives a hard bargain; she wants an extra 20% cut on every shipment she delivers. She has some major clout in the fashion industry. He thinks she owns a few factories in Asia. Her business model is simple, flawless; Say a fashion designer gets their clothes made in Asia and wants 1000 suits, cashmere sweaters or shoes done. 1300 are made; some are marked as defective even though they are in pristine condition, others just never make it onto the books. So as far as the designer is concerned, 1000 items have been made but with some extra costs incurred. All 1300 are shipped together, paperwork is switched at the port, 1000 are delivered to the designer who is mostly happy despite incurring unexpected costs. 300 genuine articles, not knock-offs, are picked up by Rio and Mei gets her cut; 30% of his profit. She doesn’t have the distribution network stateside or in Canada; Rio does. Everyone goes home happy.

  
  
  


Now she wants 50%. He flat-out refuses. 

“Listen, Mei. You can have the bag and 30% now…or I keep my bag and you get 50%. I gotta tell you though, darling...I’ve got a lot of enemies coming out of the woodwork. Who knows how long I’ll live, yeah?” He grins wickedly at her. And maybe Mei needs the cash now or she doesn’t have faith in his longevity because she takes the bag and 30%. 

  
  
  


Mei and Rio walk out onto the tarmac together. 

“Show me,” she says without preamble. He slips a hand into his jacket, pulls out a pouch, pours it out into his cupped palm; sapphires sparkle and wink at them. Mei cups both of her hands around his; whispers, “You are a man of honour, Rio-xiānshēng. Times must be hard…and still you keep my jewels.”

  
  
  


“Always.” His voice is hoarse, more intimate than he means for it to be and he wants to clear his throat. He doesn’t. She closes his hand over the stones, kisses his knuckles lightly, takes his tie between 2 fingers, drags those fingers down, and drops the tie just as her fingers graze his buckle. He swallows; the eagle shifts then settles. He knows she has seen it; he tilts his head and smiles at her. She blushes. He puts the stones away and thinks about the first time he met her.

  
  
  


She had given him the pouch of jewels the first time they had done business together; told him that it was his guarantee that she would not vanish with his money. No matter how long she was gone; she would always come back. He had had them valued; they were worth a fuckton of money; 4.6 million at valuation and appreciating. Her only rule; if he ever sold them, their business was done. 

  
  
  


She had made it clear that she could ask to see them at any time and that at the close of their partnership, she would expect them all back. Unless he sold them; then all deals were off forever and she would collect; the value of the stones or his life. 

  
  
  


Rio thinks they serve another purpose besides being a guarantee though; there is nothing quite like handing a prospective business partner 4.6 million in the form of sapphires as collateral to make that partner take you seriously. It engenders respect; and Rio respects Mei. Even when he is insolent to her, he respects her; and she knows it. She respects him too; that’s why they work so well together.

  
  
  


Darkness has fallen. Her man rolls her small pink suitcase to her jet. As he passes her, Mei pulls a dagger out from her sleeve and hands it to him. The man gets on board the plane and stays there. Rio nods at Mick to get back in the car but he keeps his gun. No need to let her know he is armed; he might need to surprise her someday in the future. He knows that the dagger handover was a message; this meeting could have gone the other way.

  
  


He huffs out a breath and thinks, _Fuck! Beautiful…deadly…women! Another knife, Fuck! Am I giving off some weird vibe like I need one stuck in me?_ He shakes his head.

  
  
  


_And now Elizabeth has got a blade in her kitchen sharpened just for me._ The thought echoes, _just for me._ It makes him shiver and suddenly he is half-hard. _Fuck! I must be some kind of twisted to get turned on by that._ He shifts from leg to leg. _Goddamn,_ _Elizabeth!_ He gets harder.

  
  
  


Mei is watching him; half of their faces are in shadow, the other lit up by the red glow of the jet’s lights. They stand in silence for a minute. Rio thinks that just for kicks he would like to introduce Elizabeth and Mei and see what happens; they would either go at each other’s throats or get real friendly. The latter, he thinks. _Then I’d really be screwed._

  
  
  


“Going home, Mei? Where is that, darling? China? Hongkong? Seoul? Tokyo?” He makes it obvious that he is fishing; part of the game they play. He is paying tribute to her mystery; she likes it. 

She smiles up at him. “Yeah, I’m going… _somewhere_.” 

  
  
  


She steps closer to him and something about her manner shifts abruptly. Suddenly Rio thinks of a geisha. He can’t put his finger on what about her has changed; he just _feels_ the change.

“Tell me what you want, Kawa-san.” Her voice is different, sensual, low, and her accent is almost Japanese now. She melds herself to him. _Kawa;_ she calls him that sometimes. It means _river_ in Japanese, she had told him once. 

  
  
  


He laughs softly at her; disentangles himself gently from her. He never lets her get too close for too long. His lips are brushing her fingers when he says, “Bring me a challenge.”

  
  
  


“A challenge…” Her laugh is bubbling. “For _you_ …Rio-san, anything. 

She always brings him something when she has been in Asia for a while. Usually, a small piece of art or a replica of an ancient puzzle. He keeps them all; obsesses over the puzzles and, against his better judgment, is fascinated by them… _and her_.

  
  
  


But the pièce de résistance in his collection of gifts from her is a black sculpture of an eagle, perched on a branch, talons flashing, wings held high. 9 inches tall, it is carved from basalt, minutely detailed, and polished to gleaming perfection. 

  
  
  


It is absolutely stunning and has pride of place on his white mantel; the black eagle being the only reason he had changed the colour of his mantel to white. He knows that basalt is rarely used for carving sculptures; it is harder than granite and incredibly difficult to work. He has certainly never seen any sculpture with that level of detail made from basalt before…or since. 

  
  
  


The art collector in him had been floored when she presented it to him. He had opened the simple white wooden box, lifted the eagle out and in his hand had been a slight tremor when he had bent his head to murmur his thanks over Mei’s small fingers. He had looked up from her hand to her face and met hunger, stark and naked in her eyes. “A gift for you, wŏ de guówáng,” she had responded quietly - _“My king”-_ and he had felt an answering need.

So now he never lets her get too close for too long. 

  
  
  


They’ve turned a bit and the red glow is falling on his shoulders and back. Now his face is shaded and hers is in his shadow. Her voice in the dark says, “Next time you decide to die, I’ll give your business away.” 

“I’m not trying to die, Mei. Long life ahead of me yet, darling.”

Mei giggles self-deprecatingly, “The more fool me for taking the bag then. I should have taken the 50%.” 

  
  
  


Then her voice goes deathly-serious, “Lots of enemies trying to take you out, Rio-san.”

His grin flashes in the dark, “I’m unkillable, haven’t you heard? 3 gunshots to the chest and I’m right here... _with you_.”

She sighs, “Yes…but now, we all know you bleed.” 

Rio trembles, feels the cold in his bones. 

  
  
  


And maybe it’s not just business between him and Mei, because she grins at him, fierce and sudden and her voice is different again when she says, “Let them come. I’ll spill some blood for you, Ying-xiānshēng.”

 _Ying;_ it means Eagle. _She’ll spill some blood for me._ Something in his chest twists. He knows what she feels, how she feels; he feels it every day with Elizabeth. Like the thing that he would kill for can never, might never truly, wholly be his.

  
  


And so he is really gentle and really slow when he places a soft kiss on her cheek, right next to the corner of her mouth; he has never done that before. “Safe skies, Mei.” 

Then he is leaving, a tall lean shadow melding into the darkness. And she’s standing in the red glow of the jet’s lights watching him go. His car door opens, a light comes on; for a moment she sees him and Mick, then the door thuds faintly and he’s gone. 

  
  
  


**چوچو**

Back at the bar, Mick and Rio sit together in silence; the barstool between them empty as always. Suddenly, Mick shudders violently. 

“What?” asks Rio.

“She gives me the heebie-jeebies.” 

  
  
  


Rio leans back in his seat and laughs, a long, easy and cheery sound. It’s nice. Mick is happy to hear it. The eagle on Rio’s neck shifts and shifts; then settles. 

“Mei? You and me both, Mick…You and me both.”

Mick shakes his head, a wry smile on his face, “Women!”

  
  


“Yeah…women.” But Rio is thinking of Elizabeth when he says, “Tell me about it.”

They raise their glasses; drink.

  
  



	18. A Fuck and Chuck?

**_A Fuck and Chuck?_ **

Two weeks go by  
Not a word's been said, we go back to strangers  
And I'm doing just fine  
I got you out my head, haven't cried in ages

\--

Then you hold my hand in the street light  
And you kiss my lips and it feels right  
When you hit me hard with the goodbye  
We know I'll be back again'

\--

'Cause it feels so good when you come 'round  
Just to set me up for a breakdown  
And I let you do it  
You know I hate you; But I hate me too

**Mood Music Credit: Hate Me Too by Emily Burns**

Elizabeth doesn’t see him for nearly two weeks. Mick picks up the cash alone thrice in those two weeks. On two other nights, Rio and Mick come to pick up the money she’s cooked. Both times, Rio stays in the car. It infuriates her; makes her feel wild, savage. Once the light of his phone flashes and it looks as though he is making a call then the car goes dark again. The other time, the cabin of the car is dark; _-he’s probably in there just watching,_ she thinks _-_ but the headlights fall on her, blinding her. She doesn’t know what infuriates her more; the fact that he is ignoring her in favour of his phone or his refusal to so much as acknowledge her at all even when he’s apparently just sitting there.

  
  


She hates him a little for it. She hates that when he had been in her bed, she had woken up to a warm pillow where he had been and the feeling that she had just been kissed but he had already left. She hates that there hadn’t been so much as a call…a text…anything at all to make her feel less aggravated and less suspicious that he had just needed to scratch an itch and used her to do it. She hates him. 

  
  


“He’s got a lot on his mind.” Startled, she looks up at Mick. He repeats himself, “He’s got a lot on his mind.” She doesn’t know what to say to that. Because her feelings must have been written all over her face for Mick to say anything about Rio. She nods non-commitally. Feigns disinterest. She tries not to glare at Rio in the car; watches Mick count the money. He’s going a lot slower than usual. When he speaks again, she understands that counting the money is the cover he is using to tell her what he wants to say, “He will come around. He just has a lot going on right now.”

  
  


She shakes her head but says nothing.

“Things are kinda shit on the streets right now,” Mick says. She shakes her head because she dare not open her mouth. She wants to yell at Mick to stop making excuses for him and go and tell him to get out of the damn car.

“The bag; It’s light again,” Mick says.

“Yes, there’s an issue with the ink as I told him already. You tell him we haven’t resolved the problem yet.”

Mick shudders. “Nah. You tell him yourself. I ain’t about to get in the middle of you two again. Aight, then.”

  
  


Mick walks back to the car. She feels a nervous mixture of dread and excitement. Dread that Rio will step out of the car and pick a fight about the size of the delivery; that he will accuse her of stealing from him. She’s guilty of it. So the anxiety is a cold pit in her stomach. 

Still, seeing him –even if he is angry- would be preferable to him hitting it like he did and then just ghosting her. _He’s got a lot on his mind._ She wants to scoff; that’s no excuse for ghosting her. She feels shame, almost regret for having had sex with him; a _fuck and chuck_ is what she has heard Annie call these situations. And he had made her _beg_ ; she _had begged_ for him to fuck her. She hates him even more. 

  
  


Mick gets in the car and it starts up immediately; as though Rio can’t wait to get gone. She gets in her van and drives off. Twice, she thinks she sees Rio’s car behind hers but when she checks again, he is not there. Yeah, a fuck and chuck; that’s what happened. She’s sick of him. 

  
  


**چوچو**

Elizabeth comes out into the near-darkness. She’s in one of her floral-shirts and jeans. Rio remembers her in an apron over a similar shirt. He imagines her in nothing but that apron. Bent over for him in nothing but that apron. Whimpering for him in nothing but that apron. He takes a long breath, exhales slowly. 

  
  


_Fuck!_ She’s doing it again. At nearly 1 am in the night, Elizabeth is walking out of the damn print shop with that fuckin’ phone held to her ear and no real consciousness of her surroundings. She stops at her van, presses her phone to her ear with her shoulder, bends and fumbles in her purse for something. _Keys_ , he thinks. _Aaaargh! Not again, mama._ It makes him crazy watching her do this over and over again; For Chrissake, what kind of sheltered existence has she led that she doesn’t know that what she's doing right now is dangerous? Time to teach this lesson too.

  
  


He knows she must be pretty pissed at him for going quiet on her after… He remembers her locking her thighs around his head and his cock starts to harden. He curses his traitorous body. 

He had wanted to call her, text her, see her… but he hadn’t quite known what to say and he had figured that giving in to that naked need to be around her would be even more foolish than all the foolish things he’s done because of her. And _Christ!_ Has he done some foolishness because of her. 

But this; this is opportunity. As good an excuse as any he’ll ever get to get close to her without appearing to cave. He steps out of the car into the night. 

  
  


Elizabeth doesn’t hear him coming. He walks right up behind her and says, “Hey, now.” His silhouette looms large, reflected in the window of her car. 

She jumps. Lets out a small scream. Drops the phone and the purse. Whirls around. Sees him. Tries to catch her breath. “Jesus!” she swears.

“Nah, ma. Not him. Just me.” Rio chuckles quietly.

“You scared me to death!” Her voice is still shrill; she is still panting. She sounds sort of angry too.

  
  


Rio steps right up her; puts her between him and the car. “Yeah?” he tilts his head at her. Somehow his voice does the thing she likes, goes all soft and rough. It vibrates over her. He doesn’t really mean to do it. It just sort of happens around her. 

Elizabeth stares at him; wide-eyed, a hint of fright still evident on her face. He quirks an eyebrow at her. 

“Yeah? I scared you, darling?”

She nods once self-consciously. Like maybe her body has just come alive to his proximity. 

“Good,” Rio says spitefully. “Every night for the last four nights, you’ve walked out of that print shop at the same time with your phone to your ear, completely oblivious of what’s going on about you and then you stand here looking for your keys, ma.” He pauses, catches her eyes, “It’s not safe, yeah? Especially not in the business we’re in.”

  
  


He wants to tell her that that bastard, Yuri, is looking for her; looking for her with an absolute dearth of happy intentions. He can’t tell her he’s starting to think he might have to kill someone for her safety. Rio knows he can’t; she’ll just freak out. Besides, he’s got this; he’s the violence between them. It’s better if she doesn’t know specifics.

  
  


She nods, reluctantly. Mick had mentioned she had been irritable at the last pick-up. He can already see the resentment start to creep into her expression; she’ll hate being talked down at like a child. Plus, she must be angry that he has been avoiding her. He has been avoiding her because he’s not been thinking quite straight since that night he made her beg for her orgasm. He has been afraid that if he sees her, he will cave to his need for her. Or that Mick will see it naked on his face. _Fuck! I’m so pussy-whipped._

  
  


But now that it’s just the two of them, he does what he has wanted to do since that night. Opportunities don’t grow on trees so he takes this one. He steps closer to her. He takes her left hand in his right hand and says quietly, looking into her eyes, “Always, mama… Your keys should be in this hand.”

He twines his left hand through the fingers of her right; steps closer still. “Gun in your right hand, ma. Hidden in your purse, okay? Finger next to the trigger, just like I showed you.” 

  
  


He can feel the warmth of her body against his. Her lips part; even in the dim light he can see how her breaths become shorter, shallower. As though her body is now awake to his. His own body feels aflame for her. 

“Okay, mama?” Rio insists. She whispers okay. His eyes flick down to her mouth. She lets out a noise; that strangled moan that escapes her sometimes when she is trying not to respond to him. 

  
  
  


He kisses her; he doesn’t mean to. But he can’t help it. That noise she just made has always felt like the best kind of invitation. She moans against his lips. He pulls her closer; kisses her deeper; drops her hands; grabs her hips to him. Her hands go up the outside of his arms, squeeze his shoulders, snake around his neck and lock together in his short hair. He presses her into the side of her van. 

He knows what he wants to do; pick her up and hold her up against this minivan and be inside her. _Christ!_ When did he become such a slave to her body?

  
  


Her phone vibrates on the ground. The ringtone intrudes; Annie’s recorded voice says, “Beeeeeth! Pick up the phone. Pick up the phone, Beth!” He curses. If he has ever had a reason to be irritated by Annie before, this one takes the cake. _What the fuck kind of ringtone is that?_ Yet somehow it’s exactly the kind of thing Elizabeth and her girls would do. The phone vibrates again then stops. 

  
  


He is still holding her against the door, her arms are still around her neck when she says with a hint of a smile in her voice, “You’ve been out here the last four nights?” _Fuck!_ He hadn’t meant to tell her that, had he? He steps back and out of her arms; picks her phone and bag from the ground. Mick has actually been her shadow since Yuri threatened to find her. Rio has been here more than a few nights as well. Both he and Mick keep changing their cars trying to go unnoticed; trying not to unwittingly lead anyone back to her. 

  
  


She takes the phone and bag; says, “Thank you.” And her voice is sort of warm; like she’s not mad at him. As though she is secretly glad that he has been here. This is trouble, he knows. Once he goes down this road and lets himself have her again, there’s no coming back and he’s fucked. 

  
  


She’s still looking up at him. He growls at her, “Get in the car, Elizabeth.” 

She nods. Doesn’t move. Her tongue peeks out between her lips then her small pout dissolves into a small smile and blush. _Fuck!_ he wants to do that again; wants to see her blush again; wants to know exactly which thought made her blush. Then he wants to do to her exactly what she just thought of that made her blush. _I’m so screwed._ He starts to walk away. 

“Go home, Elizabeth. Right fuckin’ now.” 

  
  


She gets into her car and locks the door; takes a moment to compose herself. He is gone by the time she looks up again. _He has been parked outside the Paper Porcupine for the last four nights;_ why does that thought make her so happy? She grins; _not a fuck and chuck!_ She starts the van and drives off into the night. Once, she thinks she sees Rio’s G-wagon behind her but she doesn’t see it when she checks again. Still all the way home, she’s biting her lip to stop herself from smiling.

 _Keys…Gun…_ she thinks. She can do that. 

  
  
  



	19. Kiss It Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He does it again; he rubs his thumb in her wetness, then pulls it out of her panties; brings it to her mouth. “You bit me...

**_Kiss It Better_ **

**Rio** **_:_ ** _It’s a long night and a big crowd;_

_Under these lights looking round for you,_

_I’m stepping outside under moonlight;_

_To get my head right, looking out for you_

_Could it be your eyes, didn’t know that I’ve been_

_Waiting, waiting for you._

_When you’re by my side, everything’s alright_

_Crazy, I’m crazy for you._

_\--_

_Oh, here I go; down that road;_

_Again and again the fool rushing in_

_But I can’t help when I feel some type of way_

_Do you feel the same? ‘cause; I fall, I fall for you_

_You caught me at my weakest_

_\--_

_And I fall, I fall for you_

**Mood Music Credit: At My weakest** by **James Arthur**

It’s odd how you can want Someone, lust after Someone, want to be bent over by Someone, maybe even have moments where you think you might love Someone, might have loved Someone, might have loved Someone for longer than you care to admit, wish the Someone loved you back and wish they would just get on with it and take you like you need them to…

It’s odd how you could know all those things to be true…yet still recognize the fact that at some point, you’re going to have to kill The Someone or be killed off by them. At least that’s what Beth tells herself. 

So when Rio demands to meet her non-existent ink-guy from Kansas city, Missouri - _not Oklahoma_ , Beth knows that the time to get rid of Rio on a permanent basis has come. It’s either that or let him find out that she has been scamming him. She doesn’t like her chances if that were to happen. She is sure that he would shoot her just like he shot Lucy. 

But the hitman still hasn’t come through for them; _maybe he never will_ , Beth thinks. What’s to stop James B. Fitzpatrick, the IV -her lip curls in disdain- from just keeping her money and refusing to do the job anyway? What is her recourse? She can’t very well go to the cops about it. Either way, even if he eventually plans to do the job, he sure doesn’t plan on doing it in the next 3 days and Rio needs a meet with her ink-guy soon.

So she does the next best thing; she finds the one person she knows who has the means -a gun- and the motive -vengeance on Rio for Lucy’s death. Then she offers to provide the opportunity. There! Means, motive and opportunity. All the ingredients for a perfect murder.

She bites her lip, tries to distance herself from that achy anxious feeling in her chest. Never mind that she slept with Rio again. Never mind that it felt like… something. Something she might want to do again. No time for sentimentality now; either she kills him or he kills her when he realizes she has been stealing from him…again. 

**چوچو**

It takes Rio a minute to find Elizabeth in the crowd. She’s not in her usual spot; not in _their_ usual spot. He doesn’t quite know what to feel about that. It vaguely irritates him that she’s not in ‘her’ barstool, the one he and Mick keep open for her every night as though for some spectral visitant that only they know about. 

She’s seated at a table with a guy who looks like the poster-child for social awkwardness. _Yeah…okay. Maybe it’s better she’s not at_ **_their_ ** _spot with this guy whoever he is_.

  
  


“What is this?” Rio sounds irritated. 

Elizabeth is too; irritated. It’s not fair how he manages to look so damn attractive when he isn’t even trying. Even when he is deliberately being abrasive. 

“You wanted to meet my ink-guy,” she says.

  
  


Rio narrows his eyes at her; looks long and hard at her. He is not sure what he thought this meeting was going to be about but he didn’t think this; the ink-guy? Nah, that’s unexpected. He had counted on her just feeding him some story about the ink-guy caving to his demands to lower prices. He hadn’t actually thought she would really drag the guy from Oklahoma _–or is it Missouri?_ Rio can’t quite figure out which of those two states was the truth and which was the lie...or why Elizabeth would lie about that, specifically.

The ink-guy looks…well, harmless. Rio looks him over; tries to find in him the ruthless businessman who is getting away with overcharging Elizabeth. He can’t quite see it somehow. 

  
  


“You want something?” Rio doesn’t know why he doesn’t offer Elizabeth a drink. Maybe he’s just being spiteful; he can’t help himself. Something about her brings out the petty in him.

Max freezes then says, “Sprite. No ice.” 

Really? Sprite, no ice. _This is the guy who is overcharging you, mama? How now?_

Rio smirks and gets Max the drink. Rio has got that smile on again; that you-had-best-not-fuck-with-me-Elizabeth-or-else smile. She hates it. 

“Based on what you charge, I figure you must got a G6 or something…” For a moment, Rio’s mind drifts to Mei; he wonders where in the world she is. He thinks maybe he hopes she comes back soon. Maybe. Max looks petrified. Elizabeth interrupts, draws Rio’s attention to herself. “Well, I talked to Max over here about your cost concerns.”

  
  


“Oh yeah?” 

Rio does that thing; the thing where he props his jaw up on the heel of his hand and fixes her with a look; focuses entirely on her; spears her on the end of his gaze –there’s a hint of danger lurking beneath the amusement on his face. He holds her with his full attention; isn’t this what she craves? Elizabeth gulps; maybe she doesn’t need so much of it. It’s doing something to her clitoris, making it tingle. She keeps her face neutral. “I think Max has a solution to make it _all go away._ ”

  
  


Rio tilts his head at her; half-smiles at her, “Is that right?”

“Go ahead. Just give it to him straight.” She tries to prompt max to shoot Rio. It’s futile, even she knows that. 

“I’ve made a mistake. I shouldn’t have tried to raise my prices on you,” Max says to Rio and cowers. Rio smiles; takes a drink. _Aaaaaaargh!_ Elizabeth wants to kill something. 

_Rio. Preferably._

  
  


“All good. Glad we could work it out.” He stands to leave. 

“Wait,” Beth says. Silently, she urges Max to do it. _Come on Max, think of Lucy and just shoot him._

Rio turns to her, gets real close like he does sometimes. Hands behind his back. His chest nearly grazing her. It starts a smoulder between them. She hates how it makes her feel; weak at the knees. Like she wants to touch him. His eyes drop to her knees; they peek out from under her dress. He bites his lower lip. 

  
  


_Come on, Max. Shoot him already._ “That all, Max?”

“Thank you for the pop.” 

Beth could just die; she’s so furious. Some hitman Max is turning out to be. 

“Yeah…on the house.” Rio smiles smugly at Beth and starts to walk out.

He seems to think better of it; he pauses, turns back to her. “Elizabeth…out” He jerks his head towards the back of the pub; in the direction of the emergency exits and on the 1st floor, the balcony.

  
  


“What?” 

“You heard me the first time, mama.” Rio is already walking away to the back of the club. That balcony is really quiet. It’s off-limits to the usual patrons. The staff go out there for breaks usually. Sometimes they sit around to chat: but it's a busy night. She is not sure any of them will make it out there tonight. _Maybe Ricky will,_ she hopes. Ricky likes her. She shakes her head: at the end of the day, Ricky is Rio's guy anyway. No help is coming. 

She hates the feeling she’s got; she feels like she is being summoned to the principal’s office for errant behavior. Except instead of detention, maybe she gets to die for Rio’s satisfaction. Her mouth gets dry. She takes the stairs reluctantly behind him. Rio holds the door open for her; waits for her to step out onto the balcony…then he pushes her up against the wall. 

  
  


“What was that?” 

She doesn’t respond. 

So Rio repeats, “Elizabeth…What. Was. _That_? Why’d you drag me here for this little meeting? Do you actually expect me to believe that you couldn’t handle Mr-Sprite-No-Ice-Thanks-For-The-Pop yourself? You seriously want me to believe that that’s the guy I’ve been losing so much money to each week?”

  
  


She pushes at him; he doesn’t let her go. “As I told you, I don’t control the world ink market.” She puts as much insolence as she can into it.

Rio scoffs, “And I do, huh?” Elizabeth’s lip curls; Rio hates that expression. He wants to wipe it off her face. For fuck’s sake, it’s nearly the twin of the expression that got Lucy dead.

“Bullshit, mama. I ain’t buying that. You could try to sell harder but I still ain’t buying it. So here’s what you and I are going to do, mama; whatever this little game you’re playing is, it stops right now.”

  
  


She feigns ignorance. “I’m not playing…”

Rio crowds into her space, “Nah. No more little lies from you. Whatever this little meeting was in service of, you’d better stop it, mama.”

“I don’t know…” Elizabeth starts.

Rio wants to smash something. They both know she is up to something. He runs his hand over his hair, tucks both hands in his jeans. How she manages to make him so mad, so fast is still a mystery to him; _it’s her superpower_ , he thinks. 

Rio comes even closer to her; his chest to hers. She finds herself thinking that she likes that; he is blocking out most of cold breeze that was blowing against her thighs and making her ass-cheeks cold. “Elizabeth,” his voice is awfully quiet. “I’m not playing, ma.”

  
  


Elizabeth opens her mouth. He silences her with his left thumb on her lips. 

“Darling, do you have any doubt that if I want to find out what it is you’re up to, I will? Do you doubt that at all?” 

She looks back at him, defiant. But he doesn’t wait for her to respond. 

“Make whatever this little meeting, whatever these little lies you’ve told me tonight are about go away. Shut it down, mama. Because you know, you don’t want me digging for answers.”

  
  


Elizabeth feels her mouth go dry again; her heart starts pounding. If Rio has a go at Max, Max will cave and confess. Then Rio will kill him…and her. But there’s no way to acquiesce to Rio without him knowing she’s running scared. So she says, “I don’t know what you want. You wanted the ink-guy, I brought you the ink-guy. “

  
  


Rio closes his eyes. Sighs. Exasperated. Opens his eyes. Huffs out a breath. “Yeah? See here’s the deal, mama; the only thing I know for a fact with you…the one thing I would bet my life on with you, is that as long as this… ” he puts his thumb on the corner of her mouth again. “…as long as your sweet little mouth is open and talking to me, it’s lying to me.”

She sputters, outraged. She hates how he makes her feel; talked down to as though she’s a child; hot and bothered by his proximity; aware of his breath fanning her cheek; as though her lips are almost electrified. 

  
  


“Nah. Nah-uh. Don’t even try indignation on me,” Rio continues. “Ever since I met you, that is the one thing I can be absolutely sure about. So I know that tonight, a bunch of little lies came out of your sweet mouth. And I don’t even wanna know which ones they are, mama. I just want you to know that whatever those little lies are meant to achieve, it ends now.”

He drags his thumb on her mouth, following the curve of her lips; tracing the fullness of them with the pad of his thumb. He is so close now that they are breathing the same air. She can feel his warmth against her. She knows what she will find if she takes one step closer to him; his cock, hard and throbbing, desperate to have her around it. 

  
  


She is glad that he can’t tell how wet she is just by looking at her. Her breath shudders. She curses her treacherous body; he must have seen that. His eyes are on her mouth when she bites his thumb. 

He jerks his thumb back. She licks her lip and smiles, gratified to have caused him some small pain. He pushes her against the wall entirely; holds her jaw, tilts it up to him. Then his hand drops from her jaw to her neck; squeezes gently. She gasps. Her lips part.

  
  


I think maybe, I’m talking to the wrong half of you, yeah?”

“What? What do…” she feels confused. _What does that even mean?_

Rio shoves his knee between her legs, pushes them roughly apart. “Maybe, mama…Maybe I should be talking to those lips down there; the ones that don’t ever tell me lies…and don’t fuckin’ bite me.” She whimpers. He brings his mouth closer to hers; so close that his eyes are all she can see.

  
  


He murmurs against her mouth, “Do you need me to go down and tell you again? Your sweet lying mouth had better stop or else.” She bites his lip. Honestly, she doesn’t know why she does it. It just felt so…good. It had felt so good when she bit his thumb. So she does it again; she bites his lip.

Rio jerks his head away; grabs her hips, turns her around to face the wall and presses himself to her. His knee slips between hers. He pushes her thighs apart; runs his thumb in little circles up from behind her knees, up higher and higher he goes, under the skirt of her dress. Then he pauses at her panties.

  
  


“Tell me a little lie, mama. Open that sweet, little lying mouth and tell me you want me to stop…and I promise, I’ll believe you, darling,” he says hoarsely next to her ear. She whines. She pushes her ass back into him; her cunt trying to feel his fingers on her. 

“No lies now, huh?” he asks, chuckling softly, darkly…but he sounds breathless too. “Shall I stop?” 

She has barely gasped out “no” when he presses his thumb firmly over her panties; from her vagina to her clitoris. Then his thumb brushes over her clit. She moans. He flicks it. Once. Twice. Each time she opens herself up more to him; lifts her ass to him so he can reach her better. 

  
  


He rubs his thumb along the lacy edge of her panties. “Tell me a lie, mami. Tell me you don’t want it. I’ll stop.” She moans again. “No?” he asks and nibbles her neck. “Say no, mama. Tell me no, you don’t want it.” 

She gasps out a “yes.”

He slips his thumb into her panties; inhales a hiss; exhales a shaky breath. She is so wet, it almost unravels him. He dips the very tip of his thumb into her slick vagina, trails it up to her sensitive nub and flicks again. She gasps. 

  
  


He does it again; he rubs his thumb in her wetness, then pulls it out of her panties; brings it to her mouth. “You bit me, you little minx. Kiss it better,” he demands. She keens. Parts her lips. He puts his thumb in her mouth. She kisses it. Licks it. Tastes herself on his thumb. Mewls. Rubs her ass on his hard-on.

  
  


Then suddenly, he is out of control and he is pressing her even harder into the wall and grinding on her. And slipping his right middle finger into her vagina. She bites harder on his thumb. He adds another finger. It’s quiet out here except for the distant awareness of music filtering through the sound-proof doors. The only sounds are of her panting. And him panting. 

_Him. Her. Them. And the moonlight._

He wants to pull out his dick from inside his jeans and shove it in her and fuck her rough and dirty and come in her. But _fuck!_ This little balcony tryst had had a purpose to it and that purpose sure isn’t any of what’s happening now.

  
  


He tears himself away from her; pulls his fingers out of her cunt; steps back. She refuses to let go of the thumb in her mouth; he tugs. She bites down harder. “You saucy, little…aaaaah, fuck!” he wants to laugh because this is ridiculous. But she is really not messing about with those teeth; she is biting hard. It hurts so bad; so good. And she won’t let go. Her eyes are wicked when she looks over her shoulder at him. 

  
  


He sort of laughs; then he bites the curve between her neck and shoulder. He nips her hard between two teeth; she gasps. Opens her mouth. He pulls out his thumb; kisses the bite on her shoulder; soothes it. “You shameless thing, you…” she mewls for him. He turns her around. “Your little games end tonight. Don’t make me come digging, yeah?” 

  
  


Why does he do it? He doesn’t know. He just does. He kisses her gently on the mouth and true to form, she does it again. 

“Mama!” he hisses. Then, “Really, that’s how you’re going to play this, mami?” Rio melds himself to her again. Wraps her around in his warmth; opens two buttons on the front of her dress; grazes her tits with his lips; sucks on the lace-covered nipple then pays her right back; he bites hard on the luscious bud in his mouth. 

  
  


She lets out a tiny scream above his head. He loves it. He soothes her nipple with his tongue. Kisses her tit. Cups it in his hand. “Next time, there’ll be no soothing.” He walks away, pauses with his hand on the door, “Take Mr-Sprite-No-ice with you, yeah? And don’t make me deal with him again. Okay, mama?” He doesn’t wait for a response. He just wants to get home and take a shower and come to the thought of her biting him some more. _Fuck, mami. You little freak, you. Christ! I want you._

In the end, he lets her off the hook too easy. And he knows it. it’s just that in the cold, hard light of day, he can talk himself into being cold and hard where she’s concerned. But at night…any night, he doesn’t want to pick a fight with her. It’s getting too easy to let her get away with things, he realizes. He knows; he has to find a way to separate out the business from his lust and longing for her. He’s working on it. 

There’s just one problem; that ache in his chest every time he tries to distance himself from her. Why does it hurt to not have her when she’s hurt him so much already? He hates how she chooses everything else but him. He misses the baby she hadn’t had for him; _whomp, whomp, whomp, whomp, whomp_. So why is he still drawn to her? 

  
  


He thinks he is a fool. 

He knows he is a fool.

A fool for her. And yet…

Sometimes, his heart beats for her like it never has for anyone else. 

And he’s getting sort of sick of it.

But he somehow doesn’t want it to stop.

Yes, he _knows_ he is a fool.

A fool for her.

  
  


_Goddamn, Elizabeth!_

And yet, he wants to submit to his hunger for her. 

And he wants to lose himself in her. 

Like Mars to her Venus.* 

_Christ!_ He is fucked, isn’t he?

* “Only Venus dominates Mars and he never dominates her,” Marsilio Ficino, Reneissance philosopher.


	20. The Moon is Rising, Mr Kowalski

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rio needs two things: an alibi.... And Elizabeth.  
> He gets... Both? You know he does.
> 
> Elizabeth wonders who Mr Kowalski is.  
> She has the distinct pleasure of making his acquaintance... Again and again....
> 
> and Again.

**_The Moon is Rising, Mr. Kowalski_ **

_…The moon is rising on Kimono Hill…_

**Mood Music Credit: Kimono Hill by Sophia Kennedy**

(Soundtrack in Good Girls when Rio (Mr. Kowalski) walked out of the hotel)

_\--_

_Damn baby doll keeps me up at night_

_I fell in love with your soft blue eyes_

_I toss and turn almost every night_

_Insomnia is hard enough to fight_

_Whiskey taste is on my breath_

_Part of me is scared to death_

_What if I told you the truth_

_I chase you down with 90 proof_

**_One more sip for a tortured soul_ **

_\--_

**Mood Music Credit: Tortured Soul** by **Chord Overstreet**

  
  


He’s had enough. He’s had enough of having her in bits and pieces. He has had quite enough of stolen kisses and stolen minutes with her against walls and cars. It’s fuckin’ enough. 

Now he wants a bed. Wants Elizabeth in the bed. Wants her in the bed all night. A whole night of her and he’ll take nothing less than that. And if she happens to do a job for him the same night, then so much the better for both of them. 

So he’s going to have her. He’s sick and fuckin’ tired of wanting her all day and all night. It’s getting so he can’t think. And he’s done trying to run from it. So he thinks now it’s time to take a different approach; he’s going to take as much of her as she is willing to give him and give back just as good. And maybe they can finally get this out of their systems; out of both of their systems. 

Then when she’s next screwed him over, maybe he can actually deal with it instead of wanting to bend her over his knee and smack her ass. Maybe he can get her out from under his skin so he can finally fuckin’ sleep instead of fantasizing about her in that damn string of pearls. _Fuck! A string of fuckin’ pearls._ Then maybe they can actually talk business without her making those whimpering sounds that just have him panting at the bit to get at her.

  
  


Because this hunger, this need; he knows it’s mutual. If he has ever doubted that desire was mutual with anyone before, not so with Elizabeth. With her, he knows exactly where he stands; the lust is infinitely mutual. She wants him all the time like he wants her all the time. _Christ! Does he ever want her!_ He tries not to think about that other feeling that makes his heart beat for her; that feeling that he thinks doesn’t make _her heart_ beat…for him. _Fuck!_ He fuckin’ hates it. 

  
  


And this business of sitting parked outside her house for the fifth consecutive night is not helping matters; because while he sits and watches the lights go out in her house, his mind treats him to visions of her and her dumbass husband in bed and now it rankles like nothing ever did before; because how does she sob for Rio to let her come and then still wind up in her bed with _fuckin’ carman_ the next night and every night thereafter? He’s been trying not to think about it too much but it’s getting harder to ignore. He hates this fuckin’ feeling. He just really needs to get her out of his system. 

  
  


And why the fuck is Elizabeth the only woman who has ever made him feel like this? So unhinged? So fuckin’ possessive? So fuckin’ jealous. Jealous over _fuckin’ carman!_ Carman. _Fuckin’ Carman_ who can’t even take care of her and her kids, can’t keep a roof over her head; while he, Rio, is planning a hit to keep her safe? _Goddamn you, Elizabeth! I just want you so bad. Goddamn you, sweet mama!_

**چوچو**

The message she gets from Rio is full of information yet it does little to enlighten her. 

_Arden hotel, car at your door 7pm Friday,_

_dress for dinner, overnight stay,_

_Reservation; Mr. Kowalski_

  
  


Who is Mr. Kowalski and for what is she supposed to meet him? Elizabeth calls Rio. He doesn’t answer. She calls him again. He ends the call. 

She tells Dean she feels frazzled; she needs a couple of days to rest up. He says he will take the kids to Judith’s for the weekend. It’s not entirely a lie. She really is frazzled; anxious and uncertain… about this dinner meeting. And even more anxious and uncertain about the overnight stay. She can’t very well tell Dean she’ll be out overnight… maybe with Rio? 

  
  


She assumes that Rio will be there. 

_Is this what cheating feels like?_ Telling a lie that’s so close to the truth that you almost believe it yourself? Telling the truth but leaving out the most important part of it? _I’m tired, frazzled. I need a rest._ And leave out; _I’ll probably see the guy who shot you; that shot my friend; the guy that I slept with when you were last away; the guy that I am wet for already?_ She focuses on how wet she feels; _"so needy”_ Rio had called her cunt. She wants to moan; it is…needy... _for him._

  
  


But who is Mr. Kowalski? 

  
  


On Friday morning, she gets her hair done. Deciding that worry is futile, she does laundry, vacuums and bakes to distract herself. Then it’s 5pm and she can’t avoid what’s coming any longer. So she dolls herself up, packs a bag and waits for the car.

At exactly 7 o’clock, a black car pulls up and one of Rio’s guys –Dags, she remembers- takes her bag and holds the back door open for her. It is a long drive to the eastside of town. She is tempted to ask Dags who Mr. Kowalski is but her pride won’t let her. Besides, what Rio hasn’t told her, none of his guys will.

  
  


Rio watches her walk in; she is a head turner. Literally. Heads turn and follow her across the lobby to reception. She is in an emerald-green dress; fitted close at her bust and showing her cleavage off to understated perfection. A small gold necklace nestles in her bosom; it draws the eye down to her cleavage. It makes him want to put his face between her breasts; _Christ! Her tits are something else._ To his eye, her milky skin never looked so pale. Her blonde hair never looked so strawberry; never looked so soft. His fingers twitch; he can hardly wait to touch it, touch her. 

  
  


Elizabeth pauses at reception, says to the girl behind the desk –her name tag says Angela, “Um…I’m meeting someone. A Mr. Kowalski.” Rio comes up behind her, slips an arm around her waist. She startles, jumps. 

  
  


“Hey, darling.” He kisses her behind her ear; whispers, “Play along.”

“Hey, Angela. Room ready for us?” Rio asks. 

“Yes, of course, Mr. Kowalski,” Angela says and passes him a key card. 

Mr. Kowalski is _Rio_ ? Rio is _Mr. Kowalski_? Elizabeth tamps down her surprise; tries to keep it off her face. She thinks she succeeds.

  
  


“Hey, Angela…can you change that reservation?”

“Oh, yes of course. Would you like a different room? A suite, perhaps? Given your gold status, you could take the penthouse?”

“Nah…just need you to change the name.” Angela looks surprised. He continues, leans towards her conspiratorially. “Yes, darling…” He holds up his hand to her; there is a ring on it that Elizabeth has never seen him wear before. It’s very obviously a wedding band. He rubs it with the thumb of the same hand. 

  
  


Angela looks back at him somewhat blankly. Rio grins at Angela, lazy and sensual; and practically purrs, “I’m Mr. Kowalski…” He twines his right hand through Elizabeth’s left, holds Elizabeth’s hand out to Angela. There’s no ring on it. He continues, “This is _not_ Mrs. Kowalski.”

  
  


Elizabeth flushes lightly. What is Rio playing at? Angela gasps out a small “Oh.” Her blush matches Elizabeth’s. She’s taken aback at his brazenness; most people would not go out of their way to announce their apparent infidelity. 

Rio grins back at Angela, something sinful in his eyes. “Yeah… _Oh._ ” He repeats Angela’s little exclamation; imitates the little gasping sound. Angela goes beet-red and looks away from him.

Beth sympathizes. She knows a bit of what the poor girl is feeling; disoriented, confused, and probably attracted to Rio’s sensuality; the obvious sex appeal that he is serving up in spades to Angela. Beth rolls her eyes.

  
  


“Mr…” Angela smiles weakly again, looks down at the computer. 

“Christopher Arroyo del Aguila,” he supplies. “Elizabeth Marks.” Elizabeth blinks; _Wait! He’s just given our real names and pretended that they are aliases?_ That makes no sense at all. 

  
  


Then Rio’s arm is around her waist, slips down to her hip and he is pressing himself into her side, “Shall we go up to the room or straight in to dinner, darling?”

She looks at him. She doesn’t know what his game is. She leaves the choice to him, “Either is fine with me.” She’s feeling self-conscious. PDA is not something she does. Or ever has done with Rio. 

  
  


“Mmmmmh,” he hums. His eyes are practically undressing her; Beth can feel Angela’s eyes on them. Rio tongue darts out to lick his lip, leans into her, murmurs just loud enough for Angela to hear, “I think I’ll feed you first and then we can go upstairs. Or else, I might have to devour you and I’ll tell you right now, darling… I’m _starving._ Aren’t you? _Hungry_ ?” His voice lingers over the word _hungry._ Elizabeth flushes, deep red. She glances at Angela; Angela’s eyes are practically popping out of her head. 

  
  


Rio turns back to Angela. “Would you have someone take Elizabeth’s bag up to the room?” Angela snaps out of her bemusement. “Yes, of course, Mr Kowals...” She breaks off; then “…Oh, Mr. Del Aguila.” She smiles at Rio; it’s a bit weak. 

He smirks at her, repeats her little sound, “Oh.” Then he is walking to the restaurant with his hand pressed just a little too low to the small of Elizabeth’s back. 

**چوچو**

“That was humiliating,” Elizabeth hisses at him once they are out of earshot. 

“For who? You? Really?” he asks. She glares at him. “Come on, darling. Play the game.”

“Why?” she demands.

Rio doesn’t answer. 

  
  


They order their meal. “Bourbon for you?” Rio offers. Elizabeth shakes her head at him. “Not tonight,” she says. She’s watching him with narrowed eyes trying to figure out what the point of this game they’re playing is. 

“Mmmmh. Okay, mami. Suit yourself.” They’ve just started on the main course when he says, “I’m going to cause a scene. When I do, make like a jealous mistress and storm out of the restaurant.”

  
  


She nearly chokes. “I’m here specifically to play the role of jealous mistress? Why? What are you up to?” He just smirks at her. So she lets her lip curl, makes her voice insolent, “Me; your jealous mistress? You would be so lucky,” she says to him. 

Rio laughs then says, “Don’t make me remind you, darling…just how jealous I can make you, mama. Don’t make me make you say it again tonight.” His words are a soft threat. She knows he could deliver on it if he meant to. 

  
  


_Tonight…_ Elizabeth gulps. _…tonight._ So he means to hit it tonight. She shivers then thinks, _Who am I kidding. Of course, he will. I will. We will._ A shudder runs through her; she can’t quite hide it. 

Rio quirks an eyebrow at her and grins, “Mmmh, mama. You know what’s coming later, don’t you?” 

She goes a deep red. Rio chuckles, a dangerous, softly-teasing sound. Elizabeth is unable to eat after that. She is too tense; she _knows_ what’s coming later. And the idea of Rio causing a scene; it’s entirely out of character that he would cause a scene in public. No. he’s all about discretion. So…what is he playing at? And why is he dragging her into it?

  
  


20 minutes later, he says to her apropos of nothing, “I keep telling you that she is not an issue for you. But if you actually expect me to leave her for you, you’re kidding yourself, sweetheart.” His voice gets louder towards the end. He continues loud enough for heads to turn, “You don’t hear me ask you who you were with last night, do you?” There’s a noticeable diminution in the sounds of other diners eating. A couple of people have paused; laden forks held midway to the mouth. 

  
  


Beth is furious. Even though it’s all pretend, she feels the sting of shame. With just 3 lines, she has been made out to be the shameless hussy who apparently was with another man yesterday and demanding that _this_ man leave his wife for her. She drops her napkin, snatches up her clutch purse and stalks out. 

  
  


She doesn’t make it far; Rio is on her before she makes it out of the restaurant. He grabs her hand, pulls her hard to him and kisses her full on the mouth. There is an audible gasp in the room, followed by a hushed silence. She pushes at him. He lets her go, says, “I’m sorry, darling. I didn’t mean it. Let’s talk about it upstairs.” To say that they have the full attention of all the other diners would be to grossly understate the state of affairs. Beth wants to die of shame. He pushes her out of the restaurant. 

  
  


“What the hell was that?” 

“I told you I would make a scene.” 

She sputters at him, “Why? Why did you need to do _that_?”

“Don’t make me kiss you again, Elizabeth.” He guides her towards the elevator, hand pressed to the small of her back, again, just a little too low. “I need everyone to remember us. I need an alibi.”

 _Alibi?_ “For what?” Her mouth snaps shut. “I don’t want to know, do I?” Then she thinks that since he has now dragged her into it, she does want to know. She stops walking and repeats, “For what, Rio?”

  
  


He quirks an eyebrow at her. “Incoming,” he says as he swoops down to kiss her mouth. “Gotta pull your weight, sweetheart. Kiss me for the cameras and make it good.” He mumbles all this as he plants small kisses on her neck. He won’t lie; he’s really enjoying this. Having an excuse to kiss her in public just feels so good. He pushes her into the elevator; says against her mouth, “Eye in the sky, mama.” 

Then, “You smell so good!”

  
  


She makes an involuntary sound; something soft and moaning then she’s kissing him back and her arms are around his neck and now it’s real and not pretend. Rio can smell cherry blossom; he’s really starting to think it is his favourite scent in the world. For starters, it’s the smell of the best sex of his life. _Fuck! It’s so good._

  
  


And now he thinks he’ll never get enough of her; and he thinks that maybe the last time he hit it -the first time since he got back from being nearly dead thanks to her- when she begged for his cock in her, maybe she broke something in him because now he sometimes forgets what she did and how angry he is at her…and he just wants her and wants her and wants her. 

  
  


She’s trouble. 

So much trouble. 

Almost all the trouble in his life. 

The kind of trouble that takes his own gun and puts three slugs in him.

Then stabs him with a dagger in her kitchen. 

And still he just wants her and wants her and wants her. 

It’s stupid. He fuckin’ hates it. 

  
  


He lets her into their hotel room and for a moment they just stand there looking at each other and then he steps past her to the bed. “Best get comfortable, mama.”

She’s never been so self-conscious in her life, she thinks but she sits on the bed and tries to relax. He’s busy on his phone; Elizabeth hates how he can go from cold to hot to cold again like he just flicked a switch. She is antsy; is afraid to look at him lest she meets his eyes and he sees how bad she wants him. 

  
  


She distracts herself with the magazine on the nightstand. 

“Would you please order something to eat? Dessert or something?”

She looks up. Why can’t she stop blushing? She decides that it must be the effect of the hotel room; of the story that he has already woven about them; of the fact that they’ll surely end up in this bed together and… She shivers involuntarily and hopes he hasn’t seen it. 

  
  


“Sure.” Anything to not be looking at him. “What would you like?”

“Nah, ma. Not for me. For you. You barely touched your food.”

“I’m fine,” she says. 

“Yeah, you sure about that? You’re not _hungry_?” he does it again; drags out the word hungry. A red stain chases itself up her neck and down again. 

  
  


Beth bolts. She’s ordering ice-cream when he says close to her neck, loud enough for the restaurant manager on the other end of the phone to hear, “Hurry up and come back to bed, darling so I can smack that sweet ass.” She is so shocked that she drops the phone. It clatters to the nightstand. She picks it up again and asks for two bowls of raspberry-vanilla ice-cream.

“Um… That will be all, thank you,” Beth says.

The man on the line sounds bemused. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll have your order delivered in half an hour.” She could just die of embarrassment.

  
  


_Raspberry-vanilla;_ she thinks of Rio kissing her when she had peach melba in her mouth. _Raspberry-vanilla_. She thinks of waking up to find him in her kitchen and how she’d gone to him with barely any hesitation. She turns red again.

  
  


“What was that?” _Seriously, why can’t I stop flushing?_ The memory of Rio smacking her the last time, and how jealous she had been of some unknown woman who he hadn’t even screwed intrudes. She thinks she should probably be ashamed for how she had begged for him to make her come. But mostly, it just makes her…tingly. Aware of her clitoris. Her face gets redder yet. 

  
  


“More of my alibi, darling. I gotta run out for a while. When you open that door, put on a good show, mami. You know what, you need to get out of that dress, get naked and into a robe. Make like I’m in that bed waiting for you to get that ice-cream so I can eat it off you…and fuck your brains out.” 

His voice is such a filthy thing when he says that last part that she moans. He looks at her, something sensual in his dark eyes. _Who is this Rio?_ The question is loud in her head. The answer, just as deafening; _Mr. Kowalski._

  
  


“You’re leaving?” She’s bemused. He’s looking out the window; the moon is rising. He looks at his watch; 9.44pm

“Got some business that needs doing tonight. I’ll be back soon enough.”

She looks at him, worried. She feels stupid. “What kind of business?” 

“The kind that you don’t need to know about. The kind that needs a water-tight alibi. So you make damn sure you give it to me, okay?”

  
  


Elizabeth watches him take off his watch, change from sneaker into boots, from a jacket into a hoodie. He leaves his phone on the nightstand next to her. He takes off his rings and drops them into her hand. He slips on some kind of glove which covers the knuckles of his right hand but leaves half of his fingers bare. She feels so anxious. _Is this how women feel watching their men go to war?_ She gnaws on her lip till it hurts.

“I gotta run, mama. You got this, yeah?” She nods uncertainly in response. “Come on, Elizabeth. You really going to make me do this now? ‘cause I really gotta go right now, darling.”

“Do what?”

  
  


His answer is his hand grabbing her to him, kissing her roughly, tugging her panties down, pushing her onto the small writing desk and falling to his knees between her legs. He gets right to it. Without preamble, he just puts his mouth on her clit and then he’s sucking hard, licking roughly, then probing her with his tongue while his nose rubs on her clitoris. She can feel his nose ring when he moves his head just so. She comes to a hoarse climax in a few minutes. 

  
  


Then he pulls her dress off her, bends her over the same table, unclasps her bra so her tits spill out onto his hands and fucks her from behind; hard and dirty. The stitching on his glove on her ass is rough; the brass knuckles he is holding in his left hand are cold where they press on her breast. His gloved right hand goes to her left shoulder; he holds her just the way she likes. She cries out, comes around him. So he comes too.

Then he pulls out, and without losing a beat, he’s headed to the bathroom to clean up. Barely two minutes later, he walks out, musses her curls with his fingers and kisses her hard on the mouth. “I’ll be back for more,” he says against her mouth. From start to finish, it’s not quite been a full 15 minutes. He says, “Elizabeth… just make sure you make it good, mama,” and leaves through the door to the adjoining room.

“Aight, Mick. Let’s get on with it.” The door closes behind him.

 _Mick? Mick maybe heard that? Mick knows she’s here with Rio?_ She wants to cringe in embarrassment. Whatever he’s up to must be serious for him to have needed her to secure his alibi; for him to let her see any of that side of his life. It’s a sobering thought.

  
  


She opens the door just as he said she should; looking wrecked, lips bruised, hair messy, skin with a slight sheen from Rio’s attentions, naked but for the loosely-knotted hotel dressing gown that she makes a production of clutching tighter around her bosom. She takes the offered tray, lets the gown slip off one shoulder and looks impatient to get back to her lover. She tips the server generously. He’ll remember her; bombshell blonde, disheveled from sex and generous with her purse. He will remember. 

“Mmmmh, Ice-cream’s here… coming to eat it off you, Christopher,” Elizabeth calls over her shoulder to an imaginary Rio. She smiles at the waiter and shuts the door with her foot. The gown parts to reveal her naked thigh. Yes, he will remember her; he might never forget her. 

She eats one bowlful of ice-cream; eats a bite or two from the second; leaves _both_ used spoons on the tray, tries to make it look as though she and Rio might have got carried away with each other and abandoned the ice-cream. She can’t sleep. She couldn’t sleep if her life depended on it.

  
  



	21. The Cold Inside Him & Death at Dietrich Daimler's Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: graphic descriptions of necessary VIOLENCE.
> 
> The reason Rio needed an alibi: he protects Elizabeth from danger but can never let her know what he did to keep her safe.  
> When he gets back though, all he wants is her: to hide himself in her.

**_The Cold Inside Him_ **

**Rio:** _Normally I’d break your heart; I’d love every minute, tear you apart_

_Late at night I lie awake; Just thinking about your pretty face_

_\--_

_I’ve got cold heart, cold hands; I’ll make you wanna be where I am,_

_If you only knew my plans; Oh if you only knew who I am_

_\--_

_I’ll never leave you on the wire; So let me touch your fire_

_I’m cold, sick and I’m tired; So baby let me touch your fire._

**Mood Music Credit: Let Me Touch Your Fire by Arizona**

Rio comes back three hours later, slipping in quietly from Mick’s adjoining room. He seems surprised to find her awake; like he had assumed she would be sleeping. 

“Not asleep yet, sweetheart?” his voice is raw, husky; as though he’s been shouting at something or someone. _As if I could sleep!_ She shakes her head mutely at him. 

  
  


Looking at him, Elizabeth _knows_ someone has died tonight. It’s just there in Rio’s face; something hard and tired and haunted; like spent homicide; like murder already done. She can’t explain how she does, but she just _knows_ . Her mind shies away from the thought; _he has killed someone tonight_. She would really rather not know, right? So why does she want to ask him even though she knows he won’t answer her?

  
  


Mick knocks softly and comes in behind him. Rio pulls off his hoodie. His shirt is bloody under the clean hoodie; the blood is not his. He hands both the shirt and hoodie to Mick who promptly drops them into a garbage bag. Then Mick disappears back into his room and she hears the click of the lock on the door between them. Elizabeth locks their side as well. 

  
  


Rio is seated in the armchair by the bed; he looks exhausted; somewhat shaken. 

“Let me see.” There’s a bruise on his jaw; it’s not bad but will need to be covered up tomorrow. “Show me your hands, Rio.” 

  
  


He holds them out, palms down. The knuckles of both hands are bruised and swollen and on his right hand, three knuckles are split. Elizabeth wonders how hard you have to hit something for your knuckles to do that; to split like that. She gets a small towel, soaks it with warm water and cleans his hands gently. He flinches with his eyes but makes no sound. Then she hands him a cold can of soda from the mini-fridge and tells him to hold it to his knuckles. While he does, she drops to her knees and unlaces his boots, pulls them off, takes off his socks. 

  
  


Then she stands and is about to tug him off the chair when Rio suddenly reaches for her. She steps between his legs and into his arms. For a moment, Rio just hides his face at her waist and takes shuddering breath after shuddering breath. She holds his head in place with a hand at his neck and he just breathes.

Then he sighs and nods and his breaths are a little less ragged. 

  
  


Elizabeth pulls him up out of the chair when his breathing steadies and peels off his jeans and boxer-briefs. Then she leads him to the shower, drops her robe and steps in with him. He says nothing the entire time; not when she reaches up to shampoo his hair; not when she soaps the blood off his body, blushing furiously all the while; not when she bends to wash his feet for him. He says nothing at all; just stands there and lets her.

  
  


She knows why she is beetroot red; it’s the terrible intimacy of it all. They, who on nearly all other days don’t touch at all, are suddenly touching; she’s touching him in ways that are not at all charged with sexual energy and she thinks that she wasn’t quite ready for the feeling of being exposed that she has now. And the fact that he is so passive somehow makes it more poignant, more aching, more raw. 

  
  


_This doesn’t feel like regular Rio,_ she thinks. This Rio seems less tightly leashed.

More… _something_. 

More… _something_ _undefinable_.

More _…bare_.

More… _unearthed._

More _… unburied._

Like he’s closer to the surface.

Why is she thinking of shallow graves?

  
  


Once Elizabeth meets Rio’s eyes and she thinks she flinches. She is almost afraid to meet them again; there’s something there; something haunted and dark, something hurting and vulnerable but also something… _hungry._ Yes, that’s exactly the word; something hungry and she knows it’s for her. He shuts his eyes and she is sorry then; he doesn’t want her to see his feelings. 

  
  


**چوچو**

**Rio:** _Love ain’t no fairytale; love is a buried nail_

_Inside of this heart of stone_

_\--_

_She’s the…_

_…Pain in my neck; thorn in my side_

_Stain on my blade; blood on my knife_

_Been dreaming of her; all my life_

_But she won’t come true; she’s just my nightmare I woke up to_

_\--_

_She’s twisted, I’m a rebel, she’s sick, I’m hard to handle_

_The worst part of all is I just don’t care_

_She’s twisted like a rope; that is wrapped around my throat_

_But if she’s in the house of pain; then love is standing outside_

**Mood Music Credit: Twisted** by **Eminem, Skylar grey & Yelawolf**

**_His feelings._ ** Rio is trying to bury his feelings. Trying to bury the dark memory of the last 3 hours. It’s harder than it should be. Harder than it would be normally. Because tangled in that dark memory is the recollection of fear for Elizabeth; of a threat to Elizabeth. Tangled in that memory is the cold in his chest from what he has done tonight to rid himself of that fear. He is so cold.

  
  


You see, Yuri died tonight. But Yuri died three weeks ago. He had been dying a little more every day for last three weeks. But three weeks ago, that’s when his death really happened; when his death became an inevitability; a fact. He just didn’t know it. 

  
  


Yuri wasn’t sick. Nobody poisoned him. But he had a disease; one no doctor could help him with. His mouth. His filthy, unfiltered mouth. That was his terminal condition. And it killed him three weeks ago. And every day thereafter for the last three weeks. Until tonight. Yuri’s not dying any longer. He’s dead. Nothing can save him now. 

  
  


And Rio? Rio was the Reaper. The cold hand of death on a moonlit night come to harvest him and deliver him beyond the bright light. Who are we kidding? Who do we hope to deceive? There are no bright lights for men like Yuri so there was no bright light for Yuri. Just a cold, hard death at Rio’s cold, cold hands. 

  
  


Then a descent into pits of Sulphur. Or maybe Yuri would be lucky, that after what Rio had done to his face, he would be unrecognizable to those who keep the doors between life and death. Faceless, maybe he would be granted oblivion. Maybe he would be sent off into the vast darkness. Sent into the great void. Faceless, maybe he would be free to wander the emptiness. _Beyond_ the reach of Sulphur but also _Beyond_ the reach of Light. Forever doomed. To the Merciless. the Ruthless. the Pitiless. the Redemptionless. the Remorseless. Eternal Silence. And Rio sent him there.

  
  


No, there are no bright lights for men like Yuri. Only cold. And now Rio is afraid to open his eyes because he doesn’t want Elizabeth to look into them and see the cold emptiness in him. She met his eyes once and she flinched. So now he’s trying to entomb his feelings. Trying to let go of the fear and inter the unforgiving cold in him. The cold in his chest. The cold in his hands. The cold in his bones. The cold in his heart. The cold in his very soul… if he still has one after tonight. 

  
  


He tries to consign it to the grave. To dig deeper inside of him to find a safe spot. **_A place to suffocate that memory. Hoping it dies. A place to hold it underwater. Choke it. Drown it. A place to strangle it. To hold it down and put a pillow over its face. Smother it. Deny it air. A place in which it won’t survive. Won’t come back later like an evil surprise._ ** But it’s a hard thing to do. It had been a hard death for Yuri. So hard, in fact, that Rio has started to worry about his own soul. He gives up. Realizes that there’s no short and quick way to do this. That he is doing it all wrong to begin with. He has to start at the beginning. Bury that, then the middle and hopefully, the end will go down easier. 

**چوچو**

**_3 weeks ago._ ** Right, then.

 **_Yuri_ ** is that guy. The one who has got no filter between his brain and his mouth. Yuri is big; big on a scale that defies comprehension. The bastard is 6 feet and 7 inches tall and built like a truck. Always was apparently. So he never had to pick up the nuances of social interaction; like maybe don’t run your mouth with every little thought that comes into your brain. 

So he just never learnt to watch his mouth. And Rio killed him for it tonight. _Shit! I’m back at the end again. Gotta go back to the beginning,_ Rio tells himself. 

  
  


**_Yuri._ ** Yuri is so much of a cliché villain that he’s almost laughable. Such a caricature of a criminal that it’s almost funny. Rio would laugh if the circumstances weren’t of life and death. Plus, he’s got debts to pay. _So many fuckin’ debts._ Who knew so much could go to shit in so short a time? _Goddamn, Elizabeth. You shot me. Broke my funny bone too, mama_. So he doesn’t laugh. 

  
  


He can feel her hands on him. Drawing him under the falling water. Her hands are so warm on his skin. He wants to open his eyes and look at her. Tell her it’s okay. He can’t. Not yet. _Gotta lay it all to rest first._

  
  


**_3 weeks ago._ ** Right. Rio plays back the memory.

Rio, Dags, Shapiro and Mick walk into a strip club. _Sounds like the beginning of a crude joke,_ Rio thinks mirthlessly. There’s no pleasure on the itinerary; only business. Rio hates shit like this. For fuck’s sake, why can’t people just choose a professional business setting for a change? Why do all criminals seem to have a deep and devoted need to live down to all the worst tropes about criminals? Why can’t they just have a business meeting in a regular pub? Or a restaurant? And then he can actually order eggs B instead of having to spend the duration of the meeting dodging offers of meals from that dubious buffet in the corner. His mouth twists in distaste.

  
  


Rio has nothing against stripping or strippers. He tends to have an issue with strip clubs though…and the men who run them. It’s almost always a man, isn’t it? The seedier the establishment, the more fast-talking and rougher the man behind it. 

  
  


Rio knows that unless a girl is really tough on the inside, stripping in a club with a bad boss can break your spirit. So when he meets a stripper who is hard as nails, he always gets a bitter-sweet feeling. The hardness reassures him that she can take care of herself. Then he gets sad because he knows that the hardness is usually just a shield and often enough, underneath it is a sweet girl who’s hurting and been hurt. 

  
  


Or he meets a stripper and she’s sweet and soft in the eyes and then he gets really sad because he knows the hardness is waiting in the wings; coming over the horizon in the not too-distant future. If the boss is bad. But if you run a strip club like a business, decently, take care of the girls or guy strippers, then everyone’s happy. Yuri’s that bad boss who fucks everyone in his strip clubs over though. Rio would prefer not to be here. But he has been summoned. By Terrence. He grits his teeth and enters the dimness. Dags and Shapiro hang back by the door, Mick comes with him. 

  
  


**_Terrence._ ** There was a time that Rio could tolerate Terrence. Could even hang with him and laugh about the life. Not often but once every couple of months for a drink or two…sure. But Terrence has changed. He’s 52 years old now. He is a hard man now; has lost what little humor he once had. Doesn’t know how to laugh. He has become grasping and avaricious. Bloated. Murderous and too free with vengeance. 

  
  


Maybe all this is necessary for one to hold down the Detroit underworld. But Rio watched Terrence transform over the last 16 years and now he thinks that even though _Terrence, the Boss_ is bigger in the business now; is the ultimate king of Detroit, - _long live the king_ ; yet somehow, _Terrence, the Man_ is diminished. Made smaller by his personality. Made smaller by what-may-be-the-necessities of his job. Rio despises it; that smallness. Rio knows that if he ever looks in the mirror and sees Terrence looking out from within him, then it will be way past time to leave the game. 

Maybe though, it’s the price one has to pay for holding Detroit. 

Rio shakes his head. _Nah! One can hold Detroit without sinking into dissipation and baseness._

  
  


**_Here’s the lay of the land;_ ** underworld Detroit has been split up into 4 main areas. Three of those are held by gangs. Northern Detroit is held by a crew of mostly white guys called…The White Boys. _Great creative genius went into naming that crew,_ Rio sniggers to himself. _A real flair for the inventive._

  
  


He thinks about the acronym TWBs. _More like twibs._ Big Mike used to call guys from the west side of Montreal _twibs. Typical West Island Bitches; TWIBs._ He nearly chuckles at the thought. That was always a bad joke. It still makes him want to giggle. It’s the boy in him. He finds humor in puerile things sometimes. 

  
  


**_TWBs_ ** _;_ This crew runs the women and the people-smuggling business. And Yuri runs this crew. And his crew is a bunch of real nasty muthafuckaz. But if you need a girl, you go to Yuri’s crew. He’s got girls for everything. Girls for massage parlours. Girls to turn tricks. Girls for strip clubs. Girls to be mail-order brides. Girls for… you get the picture. Girls for anything and everything you could possibly want a girl for. But all of Yuri’s girls are hard. Hard in that dead-in-the-eyes kind of hard that makes Rio’s gut clench. Rio despises Yuri for it. 

  
  


Although a significant number of this crew are born and raised in Detroit, they still have strong ties to Eastern Europe. Yuri is Slovenian; born in Slovenia, raised in America since he was 4. Never became a citizen. Didn’t integrate well into the system was the report on his citizenship appraisal. 

  
  


So yeah, Yuri is still Slovenian. Which is not to say anything about Eastern Europe to be sure, but with Yuri, Eastern Europe sure didn’t put its best foot forward. Because Yuri is all brawn. No heart. No soul. And whatever little brain he has is only loosely connected to his mouth. So most times, his mouth runs him. It just runs on and on until the brain kicks in belatedly. Rio can’t say that he has seen any great difference between brain-on and brain-off situations with Yuri. The drivel from the mouth is the same. Perhaps, when brain is off, the drivel is a bit more vacuous; when the brain is on, then Yuri turns into a pettier, meaner, more cruel and more calculating version of his bastard self. Vicious. It’s ugly to see either way. 

  
  


**_Dietrich_ ** though. That’s a guy after Rio’s own heart. He’s Yuri’s number 2. The brains behind the operation. The one who keeps things from going to shit. The one who manages Yuri and soothes and talks him down off of the ledge of every stupid and violent mistake that Yuri would otherwise make. Dietrich Daimler. A really decent guy. 

  
  


Dietrich once told Rio _the_ story; Dietrich’s origin story. Dietrich’s sister, _Anya_ , left Germany to be an au-pair in the states. But it turned out that the opportunity to be an au-pair was actually just the bait to trick a young girl into leaving her home. When she got stateside, she got caught up in some bad business; ended up turning tricks to pay her pimp. Too ashamed to ask for help, she went into a decline. 

  
  


She started doing blow. Did a couple of short stints in the pen. All the while, she kept up a steady stream of cheerful letters describing a make-believe world of comfort and contentment in a house with 2 young kids and a widow. Then one day, Dietrich got a call from a girl who had met his sister. She told him Anya was in a bad way. 

  
  


Dietrich scraped together some cash and got on the first flight he could but he was too late. His sister was already gone by the time he arrived; fallen victim to some pills she found in a john’s house. Dietrich stood alone at her funeral. Just him and the man who lowered her in to the ground. Then he just never went back to Germany. He couldn’t leave Anya, he said. 

  
  


So Dietrich got in the game; got himself a crew. Cleaned up the trade in women and banned all trade in kids in his territory. Then he got cornered and outgunned by Yuri and ended up working for the same kind of dirty bastard as the one who killed his sister. Still, here he is; still as decent a man as one can find in the business. Still working as best as he can to keep Yuri contained. Still trying to clean up the business. Still unable to go back to Germany. Still unable to leave Anya. But still… working for Yuri. 

_The road to hell…good intentions and whatnot._

  
  


_Shit! We’ve all got a story to tell, huh?_ Rio thinks. Rio once tried to poach Dietrich from Yuri. He knows Dietrich is the kind of guy he could have worked with really well. It didn’t take. He had to keep trying to clean up the business with the girls. He still couldn’t leave Anya. And that’s not Rio’s kind of business. Still, Dietrich Daimler; a man after Rio’s own heart. 

  
  


Then there’s the crew on the south side. Their territory is small. Their deal is drugs; weed back when it was illegal –now you can walk into any boutique and buy your own weed, out in public. Maybe buy some weed-infused goodies. It’s not just brownies now. It’s cake and desserts and sinful decadent little treats that look so pretty and pack a big punch. _Lotsa money to be made._ But the southside kids though; they didn’t move into that business. It’s like Rio says, most of these guys are so deep into the mindset of a criminal that they don’t see opportunity even when it’s duking them out in the street. 

  
  


So drugs; recreational mostly. Synthetics mostly. But lately, there’s been enough snow in the streets that even this far up north, the feds are starting to pay attention. It’s bringing down too much heat from the DEA. And that’s bad news for everyone. Because then, even the other sides of business get caught up in DEA enforcement action. The laundromats, car washes, clubs that Rio needs to run the funny money through, they get shut down. It makes life hard for everyone. 

  
  


Then there’s Rio. He’s the **_Money Man_ **. He cleans the money in Detroit. His territory is the East side but the money goes through to businesses in the whole of Detroit. Officially, Central Detroit, the business district, is a kind of no-man’s land; a neutral ground; where war is never fought; scores are never settled; where all gang activity is kept quiet and muted. 

  
  


Unofficially though, central Detroit is Rio’s turf. He’s the only one with the necessary nuts and business savvy to really work that motherlode of opportunity and make returns that are worth the extra scrutiny from authorities. There, he hides in plain sight. Behind legitimate businesses, small corporations that are having a hard time. He buys them out. Zorada registers them as subsidiaries of any one of a multitude of shell corporations with head offices offshore. In places like Panama. Or the Seychelles. Places where the authorities don’t look too closely because they only stand to lose if they do. 

More often though, Rio is simply an angel investor who promises relief for business that are hurting. He demands little; 70% of profits. And for a business which previously was in the red, 30% of profits can be a miracle. So Rio’s the money man. 

  
  


And his crew is made of mostly laid-back guys. Like Mick and Dags, Demon, Bullet and Shapiro; all of them cold as ice when necessary, but real friendly and easy-going when things are good. From time to time shit gets crazy – _ha, that’s an understatement,_ Rio thinks but usually, everything is laid back and most of his crew is just working to clean the money. And they’re mostly happy. They get paid well. On time. Have a decent boss. So they do their jobs like the consummate professionals that they are. 

  
  


Except Elizabeth. _Fuck!_ Elizabeth and her girls! _Sooooo much drama there. It’s just never-ending drama with you, mama._ Drama; it’s what happens when you let your feelings get mixed up in the business. Things become squirrely, lines become blurred. It gets harder to put things in their own separate boxes. Then you get mixed up one day and let the feelings make the decisions and you’re fucked. Rio’s chest hurts. _Goddamn, Elizabeth!_

  
  


**_Elizabeth;_ ** his own natural genius at cleaning his money. Well, now his source of counterfeit has dried up; Big Mike has freaked out and shut down all deliveries to Rio for the foreseeable future. _Damn Turner._ So now Rio needs Elizabeth’s funny money. Because if he can’t keep up the influx of her money, he’s going to have to let 2 car-part shops and a couple of pubs that he uses for laundering close down. And then he won’t be able to pay off his debts. And she’s stealing from him. _Goddamn you, Elizabeth. Skimming from the top like you think I don’t know, darling. So much damn drama._

  
  


He breathes. Tries to focus on burying the memories. Tries to get his mind off her. But he can’t. Because her hands are touching him and she’s rubbing shampoo into his hair and he just wants to focus on her soft touch for a minute and sigh. He can smell it; the shampoo. _Cherry blossom._ He inhales, holds the breath, sighs out the breath. Rio thinks he needs her. Needs her like a junkie on crack coming down from his high; he needs another hit or he’s going to go nuts inside his skin.

  
  


Nope. No time to think about her. No time for that now. Gotta keep digging. He just killed a man for her. And she will never know it and he can never let her know it. But he just gave a man a hard death because he was thinking with his feelings not his head. Yuri needed to die though; just probably not as hard a death as he got.

  
  


_Goddamn, Elizabeth._ He wants to be able to hold it against her but all he feels is relief. Relief that that cold knot of fear in the pit his stomach is gone. Fear for her. Fear of Yuri finding her and hurting her to get to him.

So when he couldn’t sleep any longer because of that fear; when he found himself sitting in his car, a little ways behind Mick’s parked car, watching her door in the night for the 6th night in a row, he knew he couldn’t put it off any longer. Mick never let on that he knew Rio was there in the darkness but he did. Mick knew; he was just discreet enough to let Rio work out his feelings unmolested. 

Because when Yuri started dying three weeks before he died ,Mick had been there to see that death; from when it first came into Rio’s eyes.

  
  


**_Right; the strip club_**. Rio has been summoned. By Terrence. And Rio has just about had it with Terrence because for the last three years, Rio has been putting in the work on the street; putting boots on the ground; running his investments; taking all the risks and putting himself on the line. And all the while, Terrence has just been sitting on his fat drunk ass doing nothing but take 30% off the top. Rio wonders if this is how Elizabeth feels. Wasted. Used. _I’ll work it out with you, ma._ _You just need to stop stealing from me and shoot straight, darling._

  
  


_Shoot straight, darling. shoot straight._ Rio shivers. _Bang…Bang…Bang._ The memory of her shooting him. _Fuck._ Maybe he’s glad she _can’t_ shoot straight. So anyway, lately, Rio’s starting to wonder what value Terrence brings to the game. And it’s becoming increasingly clear; nothing. And Yuri knows it too. Stupid as he is, Yuri knows that Terrence is nothing in the game anymore. 

  
  


_Gotta keep shoveling, Rio._ Right. Strip club. 

There’s a girl dancing on the stage. She’s pretty. Has a sweet face; heart-shaped. A little plump in the cheeks. She must be new. Rio feels bad for her. He hopes she leaves this club and finds a better place. A place where Yuri doesn’t run the game. 

  
  


Terrence says, “Rio, my boy! It’s good to have you around. Been a while. How’s that shoulder? Still got that trigger-finger working fine?” It’s a not-subtle-at-all dig at Rio and his shoulder injury.

“Why, Terry? Would you like a little demonstration?” he smiles wolvishly at Terrence. He lets the predator inside him leak onto his face. Reminds Terrence that he, Rio, is nobody’s prey.

  
  


Terry chuckles; lifts his hands in mock surrender, “Business then Rio, my boy. You owe me 48 milion by my estimation.”

You could hear a pin drop in that silence. Next to Rio, Mick sits up straighter.

“And how do you figure that?” Rio asks quietly.

“You’ve missed 15 weeks of payments at 1.6 million per week. Plus interest for my trouble.”

  
  


Rio rubs his jaw. This is a shitshow. The problem with Terry is that he’s become sloppy. Lazy. Greedy. Avaricious. Grasping. Because, you see Rio had come prepared to play ball but now he thinks he’s not having it. He had been willing to pay off Terry to the tune of 15 million. A more-than-generous compensation for drops missed in the last 15 weeks. _Guess it’s time to bite the bullet then, Rio,_ he tells himself. His mind shies from the mental image; _bite the bullet._ _Mmmmh…well, maybe Terrence can bite the bullet actually. Literally._

  
  


Rio says, “30% of nothing is nothing, Terry. And I made nothing in that time.”

“Yeah? Nothing? That’s also what you’ll have left, my boy, if I don’t get my money in the next 3 weeks.”

  
  


Rio rolls his shoulders, “How do you figure it’s yours, Terry? Your money? You ever get money for nothing?” He pauses, takes a breath. “Listen, Terry…I’m just trying to get back on my feet, yeah?”

“That ain’t my issue, Rio. All I know is that every week like clockwork, I get a bag with 1.6 million from you and now, I haven’t had a bag for nearly 4 months. So like, I said…you get me the 48 or you have nothing left.”

  
  


Rio sees red. “Fuck this, Terry. I could just walk away, you know. From the whole fuckin’ thing.”

“Wouldn’t like your chances if you did,” responds Terry. 

“Aaaaah. It’s like that then, Terry?”

  
  


Terrence nods and pours himself a second drink. “Yeah. You’re a smart guy. Yuri over here’s moving more pussy than ever before. So if you don’t want the place you got, that’s fine. You can quit. Yuri can have your place as well but you’ll still owe me 48 mill, by my count.”

“100% interest on late payment is really what you want?” Rio asks, again to clarify that what he is hearing is really what Terry is saying. 

“Yeah, and I’ll fucking collect it.” Terry shoots at him. 

  
  


Rio exhales a long breath. “Terry, I _know_ you did not just threaten me.”

“Aint a threat if it’s a promise, no?”

There’s a darkness in Rio’s chuckle. He hates that line; _ain’t a threat if it’s a promise._ He’s heard Terrence use it so many times that it’s trite. Trite and not even true. A threat is a promise of violence… so obviously if it’s a promise of violence, it’s a threat. He hates that line.

  
  


Rio tries to calm himself down. Tries to reason with Terry. “Terrence, you know the circumstances under which this money got lost, yeah? If one of my guys is down ‘cause he got injured, I don’t expect him to make for me what he couldn’t even make for himself ‘cause he wasn’t on his two feet.”

“You’re free to run your business how you like, Rio. That’s on you. You wanna leave debts uncollected, that’s up to you. But that ain’t how I do business. If you’re up, I get my cut. If you’re down, I get my cut. If you’re dead, I give your business to someone else and then I still get my cut.” 

Terrence pauses. Continues, “So you choose how you want it, Rio; Up, Down or Dead.”

  
  


Rio gets it now. That’s why Yuri is here. Why Yuri is _part_ of this little meeting. Terrence needs to sic Yuri on Rio. 

Rio nods. He’s considering things. He nods again and does it a few more times. 

  
  


“Bitch, you better get over here when I call you!”

The girl on stage screams. She’s trying to wrench herself from the grip of one of Yuri’s guys. _What’s his name?_ Rio can’t remember. But in his head, Rio’s always called him Ghost. He is white with pale skin but then he also dyed his hair the exact same shade of white as his skin. There’s something sickly about him. Something unwholesome. Like he never sees the sun. Almost like he has been buried and then dug up…reanimated. Rio wonders whether that’s the look Ghost was going for with that hair. _So weird._

  
  


Rio is out of his seat at the same time that Dietrich is. Rio gets there first. He grabs Ghost by the hair and tells him to fuck right off. The girl -her name is Bella, Rio finds out later- runs back to the dressing room, sobbing. Rio looks around for a napkin; his hand feels sticky from whatever slime Ghost uses on his hair. There are no napkins. His face twists in distaste.

Then Yuri steps up to Rio and says, “Whatchu doing touching one of my guys over a dumb bitch? You one pussy-whipped muthafucka.”

“Tell your man to fuck off, Yuri.” Rio shoves Ghost away.

Then Yuri laughs, a hideous sound. “Good to see you still got at least one nut on you. ‘cause I heard you lost both of them to some blonde bitch. I heard she shot you then cut your cojones right out from under you.”

There’s a silence. Rio looks up at Yuri. Looks long and hard. Says nothing. 

“Heard the bitch has some real good titties on her but ain’t none of your boys talk about her.” 

  
  


Yuri’s mouth runs on unfiltered. That’s his terminal condition kicking in. He just doesn’t know it yet. His mouth runs on, “Now that she don’t want you, now that she shot you, how about you give me her address and I can keep her snatch warm for her? She pretty? What do I care though? Must be some good pussy to get yourself shot over.” 

Yuri laughs his ugly laugh again. Then he says the thing that kills him, “I already got boots on the ground looking for her. And I’m going to find her. Then I’ll fuck her for you.”

  
  


_Boots on the ground looking for her_. 

Rio’s face is immobile, calm…too calm. Mick knows that face. It’s the facial equivalent of Rio’s hurricane-in-a-teacup voice. The voice that Rio has right before he goes off. The voice before a level-5 hurricane explodes out of the teacup with catastrophic damage and loss of life. And now, Mick is looking right at the face that matches the voice and he knows it’s even worse than usual because this is about Mrs. B and where _she_ is concerned, Rio is an absolute animal. 

  
  


_Boots on the ground looking for her_. 

So that’s the moment when Yuri died. He just didn’t know it. He just kept right on living for 3 weeks more. And Mick was there to see it happen. Both when Yuri first died and when Yuri couldn’t get deader, Mick was there to see it.

Mick steps up beside Rio. Rio makes a calm-down gesture with his hand. 

“Aight, Yuri. Here’s her address. Ready? It’s 37, Fuck you Yuri street. 3 blocks from Kiss-My-Ass boulevard.” Then Rio turns around to Terrence and says, “I heard your terms, Terrence. I’ve got it.” 

He nods at Dietrich and then he, Mick, Dags and Shapiro leave. 

**چوچو**

Rio shivers. The hot water is so hot that it’s nearly scalding but still he is cold. Elizabeth’s hands are on his chest. Gently soaping him down. Washing off the blood. He wants to open his eyes. Tell her it will be okay. He is okay. Her hands linger over the scars on his body; touch him softer, more gently yet if that’s even possible. He shudders. He doesn’t mean to. He doesn’t want to scare her. He almost says her name. But then if he does, she’ll say something and he has not finished digging this grave. And if he opens his eyes, she will flinch again. His chest aches. 

**چوچو**

**_Death at Dietrich Daimler’s Door_ **

**Rio:** _You gon' make me a believer; Even if that shit ain't true_

_You gon' make me commit murder; Baby, I'd kill for you_

_\--_

**Brio:** _In my bed I believe every word that you've said_

_Just a kiss and you make me forget_

_All the bad, the battles we lost, the bodies we hid_

_You don't know, just how far I'd be willing to go_

_You put the cracks into my moral code_

_So you can count on me to always be there_

_\--_

_Baby, I'd kill for you_

**Mood Music Credit; Kill for You** by **Skylar Grey**

Fast forward three weeks to tonight. 

Dags and Demon kick in both the front and back doors at the same time. Rio is on Yuri before the big guy can get up out of his lazy-boy. It’s a blitz attack in every sense of the word; fast, furious, overpowering. Yuri doesn’t see it coming. He can’t fight back.

With his gun in the left hand, Rio pistol-whips Yuri across the jaw. There’s an audible crunch; something’s broken. Yuri staggers up; dazed. He hits out at Rio but it’s a clumsy punch. It barely grazes Rio’s jaw. Rio doesn’t even feel it; doesn’t slow down to acknowledge it. 

  
  


Rio is still coming at Yuri. Shorter than Yuri by half a foot and lighter by a whopping 120 pounds, Rio has nothing on his side but speed and sheer audacity. Rio is moving so fast, so hard that when he charges Yuri and rams into him just below the ribs, Yuri stumbles back and falls back into the Lazy boy. The chair flips onto its side and Yuri spills out of it onto the floor.

  
  


Yuri’s mouth is a mess; he spits up blood. He doesn’t have time to do much more than drag himself up and take one painful breath before Rio is on him again. Rio knows that there are more of Yuri’s guys in the building but he just doesn’t give a fuck. That’s what Mick, Demon and Dags are for. It’s a trust thing. Rio trusts Mick with his life. He knows nothing and no one will get past Mick to him. Not until he’s done killing Yuri anyway. So now he’s only got killing Yuri on his mind.

  
  


Rio smashes his right fist into Yuri’s broken jaw; another sickening crunch. Rio’s MMA sparring glove comes away bloody over the knuckles. He follows it up with the heel of his right hand in Yuri’s nose. Yuri’s nose is broken too. _Good._ Yuri coughs, chokes, splutters. Spits out two teeth. Then his jaw hangs open; he can’t close it. 

  
  


Yuri’s gun hand comes up, slow and sluggish. Rio snarls. Grabs the hand and smashes it repeatedly into the wall. Yuri’s gun falls to the ground. Rio has still got his gun in in his left hand. His left hand is not his gun hand but tonight it’s easier to shoot with the left than the right hand because of the MMA glove on his right. He came into this fight armed for bear. So, with his left hand, he pulls the trigger twice and puts 2 slugs in Yuri’s gun hand. Yuri lets out a howl of pain which is abruptly cut off by Rio’s hand squeezing on his broken jaw. 

  
  


Yuri gurgles out a sound. 

Rio leans in. “What? Didn’t quite catch that.” Yuri gurgles again. 

“Shit, Yuri. You can’t seem to get your mouth to work tonight, can you?” Rio chuckles darkly.

Yuri is gurgling up blood. He brings his bleeding hand to Rio’s chest. Tries to grab on but his fingers just don’t work right. There is something in Yuri’s eye; Fear…Recognition of coming death…He has been dead for a while now. He just hadn’t known it. Well… now he does. 

  
  


“Remember the blonde bitch you wanted? The one who shot me? Her name is Elizabeth and this is for her.” Then Rio smashes his gloved right fist into Yuri’s face. Once. Twice. Thrice for good measure. Yuri goes limp. His face is barely recognizable. He slides down the wall when Rio lets go of him.

He is dead. Just not quite yet. So Rio puts two bullets right between his eyes. 

  
  


That’s when the cold hits him. So much cold. He is freezing. His right hand hurts. His chest aches. He feels like choking. He wants to gasp. 

Very carefully, Rio peels the glove off his right hand. Three of his knuckles are split but the blood is his. _Good._ He wouldn’t want any of Yuri’s blood to get into his injuries. He puts the gun away. His left hand is slightly bruised. He doesn’t know how that happened. 

They’ve got 2 more stops to make. The body count is high; Yuri and 5 of his guys have died tonight. 

At the last stop, Rio knocks softly on the door. Dietrich knows what has happened the minute he sees Rio. Rio’s face is bruised. His knuckles are bleeding. His shirt is smeared with blood. And he’s not trying to hide it; he wants Dietrich to see it. To know. Mick stands behind him, gun in hand. And in Rio’s eyes something cold and deathly shows through. 

“Rio.” Dietrich nods at Rio.

Rio returns the nod and says, “You’re in charge now.”

“Yuri?”

  
  


Rio just looks back at Dietrich. He is silent.

Dumb. Dangerous. Deadly. Death at Dietrich Daimler’s door. 

Dietrich understands. He had known that it would happen soon enough. He had seen the moment when Yuri started digging his own grave. Threatening Rio’s woman; that was a stupid move, Dietrich had known. Now Yuri is dead. 

  
  


“Anyone else, Rio?”

“Yeah, Dietrich. A few; five. The ones who fucked up; the “boots on the ground”. It’s a fuckin’ mess out there.” Dietrich winces but nods. 

  
  


Rio continues, “I’d best let you know this myself; anything that tries to get at me through her…I will kill it and everything standing beside it.”

Dietrich nods. “Yeah. I’ve always known that, Rio.” 

“Same goes for any of mine, yeah? All of mine are off-limits. Pass the word along. So I don’t have to do tonight again, aight?” Dietrich nods again.

  
  


“So what happens now?” Dietrich asks.

“You’re in charge now. Keep things simple and you don’t have to go the same way. 35% is my cut.”

“That’s kind of a lot, Rio. Please, yeah? I still have to pay up to Terry.”

  
  


Rio looks back at him. He likes Dietrich. He doesn’t want to make things hard for Dietrich. “Tell you what, I’ll take 25% if you tell me that you’ll clean up the place. If the girls stop getting hurt, I’ll take 25.” 

Dietrich smiles. He was always going to clean the place up. For Anya. And Rio knows it. 

Rio walks away and as Dietrich watches him go, he catches himself thinking that Rio’s a good sort. A man after Dietrich’s own heart.

**چوچو**

Rio thinks he could open his eyes now. He doesn’t have to fear what Elizabeth will see in his eyes. But now he is afraid of what he will see in hers. He hopes not revulsion or fear of him. He hopes she won’t flinch. Again. He still feels cold. 

  
  


“Open your eyes, Rio.”

He does. But he is not quite ready to see what she feels so he pulls her close to him and bends his head to her shoulder. The hot water pours on them; but he thinks it’s Elizabeth who’s finally making him warm again. He is okay. She steps back, meets his eyes and blushes. He is happy to see it; he feels relief.

  
  


Rio winces when she soaps his hands again and holds them long under the warm water. But still he says nothing and just lets her. She pulls him out of the shower, hands him another can from the fridge to ice his knuckles while she dries herself off and slips on a robe. He presses it to the back of his hands and stands still as she dries him down. _Mr. Kowalski_. She shakes her head. She feels a little dazed. 

  
  


She goes up on her tippy-toes to dry his hair and he slips a hand through the gap in her loosely-knotted gown. He puts his hand on her waist to steady her. His fingers are cold from the can in his hands; she shivers. 

  
  


He looks at her then. His face is still a bit drawn; still has some of that haunted look about it. “Sorry, mama.” His voice is raw and sounds deathly tired. Like he hasn’t slept for days and has been screaming himself hoarse in those sleepless nights. But there’s more hunger there now too, more need, more craving…stark and naked in his beautiful brown eyes. 

  
  


She kisses him; long and slow and intimate just like the first time she ever kissed him. When she stops, he sighs. _I’m okay. I’ll be okay. She’s safe. She’s mine._ So he takes a breath and kisses her hard. She melts right into him and moans softly into his mouth. His cock stirs and he laughs breathlessly against her lips. _Christ! This woman. Cold? With Elizabeth? What cold?_

  
  
  



	22. A Deathless Death for You, Mr Kowalski

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth gives Rio some good, good loving. He was freezing before: he's not cold anymore.

**_A Deathless Death for You, Mr. Kowalski_ **

**Beth:** _He wanted me to blow his breathalyzer_

_out on his truck cause he was going somewhere_

-

 **Rio:** _My lover's got humor; I should've worshiped her sooner_

_If the Heavens ever did speak; She's the last true mouthpiece_

_My church offers no absolutes; She tells me, "Worship in the bedroom"_

_The only Heaven I'll be sent to; Is when I'm alone with you_

**Mood Music Credit: breathalyzer** by **EMA**

 **Take Me to Church** by **Hozier**

**Read on...**

.... “Open your eyes, Rio.” 

He does. But he is not quite ready to see what she feels so he pulls her close to him and bends his head to her shoulder. The hot water pours on them; but he thinks it’s Elizabeth who’s finally making him warm again. She steps back, meets his eyes and blushes. He feels relief. 

Rio stands still as she dries him down. _Mr. Kowalski_. Elizabeth shakes her head; she feels a little dazed. She goes up on her tippy-toes to dry his hair and he slips a hand through the gap in her loosely-knotted gown. He puts his hand on her waist to steady her. His fingers are cold from the can in his hands; she shivers. 

He looks at her then. His face is still a bit drawn; still has some of that haunted look about it. “Sorry, mama.” But there’s more hunger there now too, more need, more craving…stark and naked in his brown eyes. 

She kisses him; long and slow and intimate just like the first time she ever kissed him. When she stops, he sighs. _I’m okay. I’ll be okay. She’s safe. She’s mine._ So he takes a breath and kisses her hard. She melts right into him and moans softly into his mouth. His cock stirs and he laughs breathlessly against her lips. _Christ! This woman. Cold? With Elizabeth? What cold?..._

**Then** she’s standing firmly again and he drops his hand and goes back to icing the knuckles. She towels her way down his body to his feet. She’s kneeling at his feet when she takes his hands and brushes her lips against each one. Then she puts her hand on his erection and strokes him. Rio shudders and bites his lip. He drops the can on the bed. He knows what’s coming; what she’s going to do. 

Beth has never enjoyed giving Dean blowjobs. Mostly, it was something she did when she felt particularly disconnected from him; when they hadn’t had sex for a couple of months or more. Or when he had had a particularly rough day at work. Rough days happened often for him; so she didn’t make a habit of soothing him that way; it would have been hard on her jaw, she thinks bitterly. Still, sometimes she would try and give him one; she didn’t often finish. He would get impatient and she would secretly be so very glad that she didn’t have to finish it. 

Somehow, with Rio, Elizabeth thinks she has never wanted anything as badly as she wants him to lose control and come from her mouth on him. 

  
  


Her hand drops from Rio’s cock and she trails the fingertips of both hands from the back of his calves all the way to his ass. Her touch is light, ghosting over him so softly he can barely feel it. He exhales; long and slow. 

  
  


Elizabeth kisses and bites her way up the inside of his thighs; he bites his lip again and closes his eyes. But when her tongue licks the sensitive tip of his cock, Rio inhales with a hiss and opens his eyes. And then he can’t take his eyes off of her. He wants to see her.

  
  


She keeps her hands off his hard length; grips the back of his thighs. Then she licks him like a lollipop. She hasn’t had one in almost 2 decades, but she remembers. Raspberry; that’s her favourite. 

  
  


Her tongue laves gently over the head of his penis; she swirls her tongue in little circles over him then slips her lips around the head, sucks gently on him, her tongue still swirling circles around the tip of him. Then she lets him slip out of her mouth with a little pop. Rio inhales sharply; swallows hard. The eagle on his neck shifts and shifts and shifts.

She slips lower on her knees; bends her neck back, bares her throat to him as she runs the very tip of her tongue on the underside of his shaft; starting at the base to the tip. He inhales, exhales, his eyes start to drift shut but then snap open; he wants to see her. He pushes the robe off her shoulders; it falls off her entirely. He _wants_ to see her. _Christ!_ He loves her tits. 

  
  


She does a strange little thing with her tongue then. Hands pressed into his thighs, nails digging slightly into him, she does the odd little thing that no one has ever done to him before; and if anyone has tried it before, no one has ever done it quite like her. _Why_ has no one ever done this to him before? _It’s her sweet, lying mouth_ , he thinks. It’s had practice twisting itself into all sorts of shapes to tell him the lies she tells him. _Oh, fuck!_ He wants more.

  
  


On the underside of his shaft, she flicks her tongue in a perfect little zigzag pattern; her tongue goes from left to right to left to right to left again all the way to the head of his cock; where she draws a spiral, tightening ever so slightly with each swirl to the very tip of him. She takes the head back into her mouth. She alternates between hollowing out and relaxing her cheeks; it feels like having his cock in a fluttering cunt. A fluttering cunt that is somehow managing to lick the tip of him while it flutters around him. She releases him with a pop. He shakes; he groans; he wants to pant.

She tortures him and time loses all meaning. He doesn’t know how long he’s standing there; all he knows is the look of pleasure on her face and the sinful way she is tasting him like no one ever has before. And the view of those glorious tits! And what he needs to do with them.

  
  


Just when he thinks he can’t take anymore teasing and it’s starting to hurt…and he wants to cave and plead with her to please just let him come, she throws her head back, puts her mouth around him and takes him deep into her mouth. He goes so deep he can feel the back of her throat and still, she takes more of him; like she could swallow him.

He groans, sinks his hands into her curls – _So soft_ ; holds her there for a moment then starts to move in her mouth, all gentle and slow. So gentle and slow that he thinks it’ll kill him. And all the while, she still hasn’t touched him with her hands. He’s sure it’s deliberate but he _wants_ her hands on him. 

  
  


Her eyes are open, wide, huge in her face; just the way he loves them best. He looks into them, fucks into her sweet mouth while wondering what lies behind those twin dark pools with the blue rims. _What does she feel for me?...for me?_

He thinks he knows; 

some fear of him all of the time, 

some almost-hate for him some of the time and maybe, if he is lucky, 

some almost-love a little of the time; it’s not enough. 

A little of the time is not enough.

It hasn’t been enough for a while now. 

Not anymore.

He takes a deep breath; it eases that tight feeling in his chest a little. 

  
  


He has been sure for so long that she will never feel more for him. Want him? Yes, _that_ she does. But he’s been worried that she won’t ever feel anything more than the thrill of danger around him or whatever it is that made her leave those pearls. But sometimes, he thinks he remembers seeing it in her eyes; hate-love-pain-joy the last time when he made her beg for her orgasm. _And this…this thing she is doing right now!_ He inhales; his chest hurts. He exhales a soft sound.

  
  


But he is starting to worry that maybe this is all he’s ever going to get. Maybe this is what being with her will always feel like. Like uncertainty. Like never really being sure what, if anything she feels. Like never really knowing whether she’s leaving or staying. Like never knowing if she wants to hurt him or heal him. Like, is she coming or going…or simply standing still? 

  
  


Like being a little afraid of her all of the time. Like being afraid she’ll kill him or leave him. Like she’ll wake up tomorrow and she will have had enough again and then she will just go. _Fuck!_ That would fuckin’ kill him. He wouldn’t chase her this time. Or blackmail her or kidnap her. He’d let her be. And maybe that would make him come undone. Elizabeth tilts her head to the left, then the right. Rio bites down on a hiss.

  
  


_Is this how it will always feel?_ Like knowing she could do this today and then stab him again tomorrow. Like _sometimes_ wanting to kill her; like _all the time_ being sure he would kill for her. _Fuck!_ Maybe this is what love feels like. _Nah! It’s her mouth._ He tells himself. _It’s my dick in her mouth that’s confused._ He hates it. He wants more. He loves it.

  
  


He almost feels sorry for Dean. _Fuckin’ carman._ He thinks he knows now why Dean couldn’t see her. Rio’s not sure _he_ can see Elizabeth clearly enough yet; if he will ever see all of her. And no one could ever accuse that big lump of a husband of being perceptive. Rio would snigger if he didn’t need all his focus just to breathe. He gasps once. 

  
  


Her curls are so soft under his hands. He wonders where he wants to come. He wants to come on her tits. See himself squirt onto her neck. Give her a pearl necklace. He has wanted to give her one for so long; ever since he took hers from the warehouse door. Sometimes, it’s been all he can think about; giving her one in return. 

  
  


But he is torn; he doesn’t want to leave her mouth. He doesn’t think he could ever want to leave her mouth again; her sweet, sweet mouth with which she lies to him; which she is letting him fuck into. That sweet mouth she’ll use to lie to him later, just as soon as she needs to. And she won’t hesitate to do it. _Fuck!_ There’s that tightening in his chest again. He wants more of it. He hates it. He loves it.

She locks her lips tight around him; hollows out her cheeks; tilts her head right and left as her mouth goes up and down around his shaft. Tilting her head either way, twisting around him like that, it feels like her mouth is trying to uncork him; to pop him open like you would a bottle of wine…over… and over… and over again. And all the while, her tongue wraps itself around him, licks him, tastes him, torments him. 

He grips her hair tighter; his knuckles hurt so bad; he tightens his hold on her anyway. He slows his hips down; lets her choose how and when he comes. He can feel himself losing control and he just wants to fuck rough and fast into her mouth. But he contains himself… barely. She takes the decision away from him. Her right hand at the base of his cock, just two fingers wrapped around him in a ring, slipping up and down his cock tighter and faster each time, as she works her mouth up and down his shaft. 

  
  


The fingers of her left hand brush gently against his nuts then more firmly until she cups them in her small hand. And all the while, her mouth takes him and takes him and takes him and her eyes drown him and drown him and drown him. 

  
  


He feels the orgasm about to start. “Elizabeth…” She nods, tilts her head back further, bares that lovely throat. And then the cork is popped; he’s exploding in her mouth and he’s filling her mouth up and the shudder comes in waves and waves and it doesn’t seem to want to stop. And her hands are pressing into his ass and drawing him yet deeper into her mouth. So he rides the waves and still he’s spilling out into her mouth.

And he thinks that maybe this is the only heaven he’ll ever get; maybe his heaven is her arms and her sweet, lying mouth and her glorious tits and her hot, wet cunt. _Christ!_

  
  


And he groans her name over and over but he can’t seem to catch a full-breath so he can’t quite finish saying her name until he comes down and then he gasps, “Elizabeth!” He is lost; he has lost. _Fuck!_ He’s losing this war between them. He has to stop fucking her. He _will never_ stop fucking her.

  
  


She lets him go with another little pop and then she swallows; he groans. Her tongue peeks out; she licks every last drop of him off the corners of her lips and swallows again. His hand twists in her hair; he moans. _Christ! But this is not love, right?_ He wants to scoff at the absurdity of the very idea; _Fuck love. right? Right?_

It’s just that now he can’t quite remember why the idea is absurd. 

He can barely stand but he pulls her to her feet anyway, picks her up and carries her to the bed. He drops her in it, crawls in on top of her, puts his head on her shoulder and breathes her in _-cherry blossom._ He tells himself it means nothing when he realizes that he has twined his feet around hers. His face is in her hair until he’s ready to go again.

  
  



	23. Take Me to Church, Mr Kowalski

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rio and Elizabeth spend the night...
> 
> “Hey, now.”
> 
> Elizabeth giggles, “Mr. Kowalski.” 
> 
> He laughs. Christ! 'You’ll be the death of me, mama,' he thinks. “That’s who you want, huh?” She hums assent. 

**_Take Me To Church, Mr Kowalski _ **

**_Rio:_ ** _You are my angel;_ _come from way above_

_To bring me love_

_Her eyes; she’s on the dark side_

_Neutralize; every man in sight_

_Love you, love you, love you_

_\--_

**Brio:** _…Take me to church,_

_I’ll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies_

_I’ll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife_

_Offer me that deathless death_

_Good God, let me give you my life…_

**Mood Music Credit: Angel** by **Massive Attack**

 **Take Me to Church** by **Hozier**

When Rio wakes up, the light on the nightstand beside him is still on; a soft glow in the room. It irritates him. He wants to reach for it and turn it off so he can sleep. He can’t reach it. Elizabeth is asleep; half-on him, half-off him. On second thought, maybe he doesn’t want to reach it, he realizes; because the soft glow is falling on her strawberry hair and turning it into a halo. He’s amused at the thought; _Elizabeth, an angel?_ He sniggers; _A fallen one, sure. A saint? Hardly._

  
  


Rio looks at her; she’s beautiful. The light falls on her back and on the swell of her ass, casts a golden hue on her skin but leaves the cleft between her ass-cheeks in shadow. He feels himself start to harden. He stops trying to reach the light; lies still and just holds her. He is lying on his back; his left leg bent at the knee. She’s asleep on his right side; her head on his right shoulder; her breasts pressed into his chest. His right thigh is pressed beneath, between her thighs. 

  
  


He wonders if she’s comfortable. But she seems to be; he hasn’t ever seen anyone sleep like her. She’s sound asleep and barely even moving. He flexes his fingers a little and winces. His knuckles hurt so bad; but it could be worse. Something in his chest tightens thinking of her pressing a can of soda to his knuckles. He runs his hand down her back. She doesn’t stir. _Christ!_ She’s so beautiful. He thinks he could religiously hit it five times a day like a prayer, every day of his life and still never have enough.

  
  


He gets harder yet. His fingers ghost down her spine. His cock hurts a bit; it is trapped beneath her body. He wants to wake her up and put it in her again. He wants her to sleep.

She must be tired; he had made her work for her orgasm. He had held her straddled across him, tortured and teased her until she had mewled in fuckstration.Eventually, he had let her come and she had promptly collapsed onto his chest; boneless; jelly. He loves how she does that; fucks herself out on him, gets absolutely wrecked on his body and then just swoons into him and promptly falls asleep. _Fuck! Has it ever been so good?_

  
  


He loves doing that; torturing her and watching her lose control. That’s the only time when she is not tightly buttoned up; when he’s got her right there on the edge and she loses it and sobs and sometimes she cries real tears for him and then he lets her come and still she sobs and then she falls into him like she needs his comfort. He fuckin’ loves it. He loves that she loves it; _You little minx of a masochist, mami._ Rio smirks; it makes him feel so smug. 

  
  


Then she falls asleep. She had done it the first time he fucked her in her bed too. But she had been too tense to close her eyes for more than a minute or two; probably because she had known what she was about to do. Kick him out and leave his money… he almost flinches then steadies himself. That’s in the past. That demon is exorcised. It has no power to hurt him now. 

  
  


She’s his now, isn’t she? She’s asleep now, isn’t she? In his arms now, isn’t she? With no desire to do more than get wrecked on him? He grins. _Fuck tomorrow!_ She’ll go back to screwing him over; he’ll probably strong-arm her into something she doesn’t want to do but tonight… _Fuck tomorrow!_

  
  


He grows harder yet; he can feel her slit on his right thigh. He folds his knee a little, rubs his thigh against her clitoris. She’s wet still; still dripping with his cum. His cock stirs again. He thinks of all the times he has come inside her. Of all the times when she has wanted him to come inside her. _Every single, damn time without fail_ . _Christ!_

  
  


_What’s that about though?_ He knows it’s irresponsible. It should feel irresponsible. especially after everything that happened with them before. He thinks about the baby she didn’t keep and his eyes sting. He thinks she’s taking the pill; he saw her pop a pill tonight. 

  
  


But what’s that about? That need they both have for him to cum in her? He’s never done this with anyone before; except Rhea. But then he and Rhea had actually been together for 4 years and it had just seemed like the ‘expected thing’ if Rhea were to get pregnant. It had been a logical-next-step kind of deal. He hasn’t gone bareback with anyone since Rhea and he wouldn’t dream of it. 

  
  


Until Elizabeth. Who didn’t want his baby though. So why were they still not using protection? Clearly, the pill failed them once before. So why is he still doing this? Still not using protection?

This kink they both have; it’s not about the unprotected sex part. It’s about the cumming-in-her part. Like, even when he’s alone, his go-to mental image to get him to orgasm is one of him emptying into her. Like he could happily enough hit it in a condom but he would still _want_ to finish in her cunt. _Fuck! That’s a different kind of twisted, Rio_ , he tells himself _._

  
  


It’s him coming in her that does it for him. Does it for her. Does it for them. The feeling of him filling her up and sating her need for him and his for her... if only for a moment. Then knowing that he’ll be dripping out of her later. Does it for both of them. _It’s just so, so, so fuckin’ good._

  
  


It’s almost as though his body just needs to claim her as his; just that little bit more by coming in her. Like he’s marking his territory. _Aight! That makes some crooked sort of sense._ So why is she letting him? Does she want him to claim her? Is this her saying with her cherry what her sweet, lying mouth will never admit to him; she _wants_ to be his? 

_Damn! That’s a good feeling_.

  
  


_Good. And stupid._ Stupid because, -he would not easily admit it to anyone- when he’s spilling into her, he has a wild yearning to get her pregnant again with his baby. Like, maybe his body has subconsciously been trying to get her pregnant since the very first time he had bent her over at that mirror in _their_ bar. 

  
  


So many times he has imagined pounding into her when her belly is round with his baby and it gets him to climax so hard, so fast. His chest always hurts after though; why did she not keep his baby? He always feels so sad. He shoves those feelings down inside. They either need to have this conversation or start using protection. _Can’t keep playing pregnancy roulette,_ he tells himself. 

  
  


His body rebels against it. 

He _wants_ to come in her. 

_Right now_ , he wants to spill into her again. 

  
  


He rubs his thigh between her legs, folds his knee. She stirs. No. he doesn’t want to wake her yet. Not yet. So he rubs her back. Soft. Gentle. Reassuring. She sighs. Settles closer into him. 

  
  


So he does it again. Flexes his knee, presses his thigh on her clitoris; rubs her back. She moves slightly; falls back asleep; sighs against his neck. Rio grins. _Christ! It’s like your body was made just for me, mama._

  
  


All those years of mindless sex with women whose names and faces he has mostly forgotten now; and all the while, his body had just needed her. Needed her while she made a family and lived in contentment, crafting and being a good mum; while her husband screwed everything in a skirt. And Rio’s body had just gone on needing her while she lived in blissful unawareness of him. 

  
  


Then she wised up to what Carman was doing. _And so started the winter of her discontent! Fuckin’ Carman. Thank you, Carman. And now she’s here. Jesus, mami! It can only get better, darling._ He hopes he is right.

  
  


_She’s fuckin’ beautiful… fuckin’ trouble too!_ He does it again. Knee; thigh; back… He is pushing his luck, he thinks. Because, while his body is aching for her again _-how many times can a man get this hard for one woman anyway?_ While his body is aching for her, her body is starting to wake for him.

She might still be asleep but that hasn’t stopped her cunt from getting wetter. _How is that even possible? How wet for a man can one woman be? For me?_ He grins; he fuckin’ loves it. He can feel her clitoris begin to swell, become taut every time he brushes his thigh on it; that swollen nub responding to the press of his thigh even while her mind sleeps. 

  
  


Knee; thigh; back…. knee; thigh; back… knee; thigh; back….knee; thigh; back… 

Rio wants her to wake up now. His breathing is getting rapid; shallow. Knee; thigh… knee; thigh….

He is watching her face when she opens her eyes. She blinks; blue eyes big and beautiful and still lazy with sleep. Knee; thigh…knee; thigh… he watches her pupils widen; watches the lust and hunger come into her eyes; watches the black depths of her pupils chase the blue away to matching thin rims. _Fuck! That’s beautiful to see._

  
  


“Hey, now.”

Elizabeth giggles, “Mr. Kowalski.” 

He laughs. _Christ! She’ll be the death of me._ “That’s who you want, huh?” She hums assent. 

He sinks his hands into that mass of blonde curls; lifts her head off his shoulder and kisses her; long and intimate and slow. Just like she had done to him a couple of hours earlier. She moans, long and low and sensual into his mouth. _He loves how she does that._ She is ready for him. 

  
  


He pulls her astride him; she loves being on top. She likes being in charge. He likes letting her. Until she’s on the edge and then he denies her satisfaction. He takes back control and tortures her. Shows her she’s only in charge because he wants her to be. She hates it. She loves it. She always wants more. He fuckin’ loves it.

  
  


She nods down at him. He presses into her; long and firm and relentless until he bottoms out. She gasps; her mouth forms a small **_o_ ** shape. He fucks into her; each time he bottoms out in one long stroke. He goes once, twice, thrice. Stops. Holds her there. Speared on the end of his shaft. Watches her. She pants above him. Tries to bite down on a moan. Then she seems to give in and whispers hoarsely. Needily, “Take me, Mr. Kowalski. Take me to church … and make it quick and hard…” She pants, “Please… I neeed youuuu….”

  
  


_Oh, fuck!_ He gives it to her just like she wants. And it’s only a few minutes later that she cries out and he pushes himself up to sit, wraps his arms tight around her, pulls her head down onto her shoulder and comes into her clenching cunt… A _gain. Fuck! Elizabeth!_

  
  


Later she falls back asleep in the same place as before; half-on, half-off him. When he wakes up, she’s still asleep but she’s now all the way off and is curled up beside him but her arm is thrown across him and her fingers graze his belly; it’s an unconscious act of possession. _Yeah…I guess it works both ways; She’s mine and I’m…_ He doesn’t want to complete that thought; he gets goosebumps. _Hopeless! It’s just utterly hopeless to fight it. I’m losing...think I already lost._

  
  


They sleep in; opt for late checkout. He gets her to orgasm in the shower one more time for good measure. And he doesn’t really know how either of them is still standing at this point; he’s got that nice fucked out feeling that he hasn’t had in the longest while. He grabs her bag and his and walks out with her to brunch. And now the PDA is not an absolute necessity. But he slips his hand through hers and tells himself he’s just bolstering his alibi.

  
  


As he closes the door behind him on the room where Turner had held him for two weeks, there’s no bitter twist in his chest; no anger. _Turner’s dead now;_ that’s a satisfying thought. _And this room has no more power over me._

  
  


He wants to say, “ _just another fuckin’ room.”_ But instead, in his mind, behind that door, there’s a very pretty picture of lust and hunger for him blowing up the pupils of Elizabeth’s sleepy blue eyes. And then of her smiling down at him. 

Another demon exorcised. 

_Fuck love though, right? Right?_

He’s not too sure anymore.

**چوچو**

**Rio:** _Damn baby doll’s got so much light;_

_but damn baby doll’s got so much fight_

_You’re cold sometimes with a lot of bite;_

_But Just one smile keeps me satisfied_

_\--_

_One more sip for a tortured soul;_

_You’re digging my heart in a deeper hold_

**Mood music credit; Tortured Soul by Chord Overstreet**


	24. No Cash, Break Up, Sad Ex, Fuck Love. Fuck love, right? Right?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rio cleans out Elizabeth's house; and gives her a chance for a new deal.
> 
> If she stops screwing him over, maybe they can work together. 
> 
> Because Rio knows they could be so fuckin' good together.
> 
> And all he wants to do is show her just how good.

**_No Cash, Break-up, Sad Ex, Fuck Love. Fuck Love, right? Right?_ **

Five days later, Rio tells Mick to clean her out her house. To clean it out and leave nothing except their clothes and the dubby. And the rabbit; it belongs to Emma; the little girl who’s got her mama’s eyes. See, he is not an absolute monster. He is just an asshole; the good kind; the intentional kind. His being an asshole serves a purpose. Elizabeth has got to learn to stop stealing from him; so he’ll teach her. 

And this is war; he will give no quarter. He will take and take and keep on taking until her debts to him are paid. In full. 

  
  


_In the cold, hard light of day,_ it’s easier to tell himself this. Because, Lord knows he doesn’t quite believe it when night falls.

 _In the cold, hard light of day,_ he thinks of Elizabeth and instinctively finds himself rubbing on the scars on his chest or rolling his right shoulder. He remembers; Elizabeth is pain and trouble.

 _In the cold, hard light of day,_ it’s easier to remind himself why he oughtn’t be feeling what he’s been feeling for her. It’s easier to remember why his heart shouldn’t be beating and beating for her. 

  
  
  


Because if the woman you think you’re starting to almost-love accepts your gun from you and then puts three slugs in your chest…that’s not something to just get over. That’s not something to just forget.

So why is he? Starting to forget?

Why is he? Hoping he forgets?

Why is he? Trying to forget?

Why is he? _Wanting_ to forget?

 _Goddamnit, Elizabeth. See where we are now, mama? In the middle of this stupid mess?_ Rio thinks to himself. 

  
  


Rio tells himself he has to stop;

stop tapping her; 

stop wanting her; 

stop caring about her; 

stop _needing her_.

But he doesn’t want to stop. He doesn’t think he could stop. Not even if he tried. Even if he tried harder. And he’s not trying very hard. Because he just wants her. All the time, he just wants her.

Despite what she did. 

A small twisted part of him acknowledges what the rest of him won’t face; maybe he wants her more…

 _Because_ of what she did. 

  
  


Because he doubts any other woman he’s ever been with would have done it. Because he would never have predicted that she would choose to save Turner and shoot him, Rio, instead. Because she had managed to shock him and he hadn’t counted on that. Because he knows she had been afraid of him when she took the first shot and he thinks it was an accident. Because then she had taken two more and she had meant those. Because that small twisted part of him knows he had almost deserved it. Because now that he knows what she’s capable of, he thinks about it and feels a secret breathless thrill and a frisson of fear... and he thinks he’s torn between hating it and loving it. 

But then she had walked away and left him…Again. And that’s the demon he’s been trying to exorcise since. _Choose_ **_me_ ** _. Don’t leave_ **_me_ ** _._

  
  


And so now when it hurts, he just wants to find her and bury himself in her and forget. Because when he’s hitting it, he almost forgets what she did. He barely remembers her leaving him that time or the times before that. He almost forgets that she chose not to keep his baby. Instead, all he remembers is dappled sunlight filtering through her bedroom curtains and how she kissed him the first time she ever kissed him.

And when he’s hitting it, all he sees is her face. Above him. Beneath him. Next to him. Making that sweet **_o_ ** her mouth makes when he is hitting it just the way she likes. That sweet **_o_ ** when her mouth twists in delicious pain. That sweet **_o_ ** her mouth makes right before she begs him not to stop. 

  
  


It’s the memories. It’s reality. They make him weak for her. Because she begs him not to stop. So he doesn’t want to stop. He doesn’t think he could stop. He’s not going to stop. He knows he can’t stop. 

  
  


He just has to find a way to punish her when she screws him over. Now here’s the really crazy part; the part that makes him go a little out of his mind with longing for her; he thinks Elizabeth sort of likes it. She likes it when Rio won’t take her drama lying down. If not, why does she keep coming back for more? She’s a sucker for the pain he causes her. _He_ ’s a sucker for the pain _she_ causes him. _Christ! This woman!_ Heat stirs low in his belly; it leaves him hard and aching. _Goddamn you, sweet mama. Goddamn you, Elizabeth._

Even after Mick empties her house, she will be back for more. Rio would be willing to stake his life on it. He’s betting on it actually; he’s going to sit right here and he’s going to wait for her to come back for more.

  
  


Mick just stands there gaping. “You want me to clean _her_ out?”

Rio rubs the knuckles of his left hand on his jaw. His voice is quiet when he says, “I didn’t stutter, Mick. We goin’ to have to have a conversation every time I want something done around here?” 

  
  


“Nah, man. It’s done.” Mick raises his hands in surrender. But inside his mind is uneasy because this all feels so…personal; as though he’s caught in the middle of a lovers’ quarrel. He slumps onto a stool near Rio. _We keep leaving this seat open. Is she ever going to be here?_ Mick thinks as he looks at the empty stool between him and Rio. 

  
  
  


“What?” Rio says, voice still quiet. 

“Nah, nothing. Consider it done.” Then he thinks, _It_ **_is_ ** _personal_ but then again, it’s _always_ going to be personal between Rio and Mrs. B. He figures he had better just get used to it. 

  
  


Mick, Dags, Bullet, Demon and Shapiro clean out her house three days later; she’s out with the kids and her husband. As Rio does a walk-through the house, he goes to her bedroom; stands there for a few moments remembering. So much history. It doesn’t make him want to flinch anymore; his most vivid memory of her in this room is from one and a half months ago; Elizabeth sobbing, “Please, Rio. I’m jealous. Please, Rio. I want youuuuu.” That’s a gratifying thought. His jeans feel snug; he shifts from leg to leg.

  
  


He looks in her nightstand, sees her wand – _Rio wonders if she thinks of him when she makes herself climax with it; like he thinks of her every time he brings himself to a shaky release_. He pushes some business cards aside, finds what he’s looking for.

He leans against the door, her pen in his hand and watches Mick and Dags pack up the room. They’re taking the nightstand with her vibrator in it. Rio grins. _You’ll be so horny for me, mama. So…unsatisfied._ He’s nodding to himself; _Mmmmh, I’ll take care of that for you later, ma._ He imagines her using the vibrator; _do you make the same sounds as you make for me, Elizabeth?_ Nah! He _knows_ she doesn’t. He bites off a hiss and draws in his lower lip.

  
  


He’s standing in the kitchen, at the island where he had kissed peach melba off her when he scrawls, 

**ELIZABETH**

**DON’T EVER STEAL FROM ME**

**AGAIN**

There’s a spiteful little edge to his satisfaction as he imagines them coming home from dinner to find an empty house. Yes, he is pleased. Whatever memories she and her husband will have made tonight, finding that he, Rio, has taken their everything; that’s the only thing they will remember.

 _Good!_ he thinks. _Fuckin’ Carman._

  
  


He drops the note on the island and walks out; closes the door softly behind him. 

  
  


**چوچو**

Beth knows what she needs to do; she has got to go and grovel. She knows why Rio has done it and what he wants from her; he wants her to know that he knew that she had been skimming a bit off of his money. Rio wants her to know that she’s not going to make a fool of him; and that he hadn’t believed her when she lied that ink had become more expensive. He’s not the type to let that go, she knows.

  
  


So now Beth has got to go and grovel to his satisfaction. But if that’s what he gets, then _she_ wants something too. She needs him to acknowledge that she has to have _some_ money; that he can’t take _everything_ . She wants her life back. She scoffs; _As if!_ He’s not going to give her _that_ but at least, he can give her _something_. 

  
  


So she steps into the shower and thinks about what to wear. This is a minor skirmish between them; no lives are at stake but she means to take every advantage she can get. As she steps out and wipes off the foggy mirror, she remembers him watching her in _the_ bar bathroom mirror and wonders what he most lusts after. 

**_My mouth_ ** _,_ she thinks. So she does her lipstick just so. She recreates a kissed look; just the way her lips look when he’s been kissing her; lips full, rosy and almost bruised. She bites her lip a couple of times, applies her lipstick then she dabs at it till it seems almost worn off.

**_My scent;_** she spritzes a little perfume in the air and walks through it. It’s light, barely there. It’ll draw him in; make him want to lean in. 

**_My hair;_** she rubs some conditioner on her fingers; runs her fingers through her hair; arranges her curls. She inhales; _cherry blossom_. She thinks of how he always buries his face in the crook of her neck when he hits it; _-God, she hates that expression-_ she thinks that maybe he’s a sucker for the scent of it. All’s fair in love and war, after all. 

**_In love and war;_** why did her belly clench low at that thought? **_Love_** and war. Something in her chest stirs. She shakes her head and takes out a polka-dotted dress. 

**_Polka dots;_ ** If she were any other woman; if he were any other man, she would not choose that dress. It’s too demure. Not sexy in any obvious way. But she knows what she’s doing when she pulls it on; _polka dots_ will remind him of another polka-dotted dress that she had pulled up for him while standing in front of _the_ bar bathroom mirror. If she’s lucky, she thinks, the white dots might evoke the memory of the pearls she had left for him at the beginning. 

**_Pearls;_** she wonders what he had done with them. She can’t for the life of her decide if he kept them or got rid of them.

When she steps out of the bathroom, Dean looks up from inflating the air-mattress and she sees a surprised look in his eyes; like he is looking at her and _actually_ seeing her. It almost makes her sad; that he had never seen her until Rio came into the picture. She almost feels sad for Dean; because she knows he’ll be shocked when she finally tells him…that there’s nothing left for him with her anymore; that it’s too late for them now. She knows she has to do it soon.

  
  


“I’m going to get our lives back.” 

“You gotta look that good to do it?” he asks. 

She smiles, shrugs a little, “You trust me?”

Dean tries to smile back; tries to nod yes. She understands; she doesn’t quite trust herself either. 

**چوچو**

**_Shameless Hope (Keep Me Close)_ **

**Rio:** _We make a mess then brush it up_

_But honey, I guess I’m not so tough…_

_I’ve been staying out and drinking late._

_It’ll all be worth the wait_

_All in time, give me time_

_I’ve been drowning for the both of us_

_\--_

**Brio:** _We can grow; we’re not broken_

_Keep me close; keep me hoping_

_You and I were unconditional; my love, my love_

_You and I were unconditional; our love’s enough_

**Mood Music credit: Unconditional** by **Aaron Smith**

*(This song; shivers and goosebumps) 

  
  


Rio knows trouble when he sees it. He’s been waiting for her. For the last two nights, he has sat in this same spot and drank bourbon and kept a stool open for her. They’re either going to parley or cross swords; either way he has been waiting for her. 

  
  


Now that she’s here though, he wants to leave. He thinks he needs to leave. Because he knows trouble when he sees it and trouble just walked in looking for him.

_Elizabeth fuckin’ Boland!_

_Trouble;_ he wants _it_ so bad. 

_Elizabeth;_ he wants _her_ so bad.

_Fuck!_

  
  


He licks his lower lip, bites it. His body is already betraying him. He can’t take his eyes off of her. She’s… something. Something different. Something special. Something so alluring that it’s almost physically hurting him. _Christ!_

  
  


He goes on the offensive before she even sits; doesn’t let her settle down. He can’t give her an inch. Or he’s fucked. 

“Shouldn’t you be making my money?”

She’s unmoved. “Just here having a drink.” He can _hear_ that wicked smile in her voice. _How does she do that; smile with her voice?_ He thinks they’ve been here too often because Ricardo brings her a bourbon and smiles at her. He feels mildly irritated when she says, “Thanks, Ricky.” 

  
  


_Ricky, huh? Aight, mami. Game on._ “Rough day?” he drinks. 

She picks her drink but doesn’t drink yet. “Mmmh. I’ve had better.”

“Yeah, well, nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix.” It’s a low blow and he knows it has landed. His lips are thin and his eyes hooded even as he thinks, _you gotta stop screwing me over, mama._

But he would be a fool if he weren’t prepared for her to rally.

“I’d have to have a bed,” she is smiling again as she says it. He can _hear_ the smile again and he knows she is looking at him because her breath brushed his neck when she spoke. 

  
  


“That’s a problem.” His fingers itch to touch her. He locks his hands together instead.

“Well, the least of them.” She is still pushing her drink around on the bar. 

“That right?” his voice is low. He thinks, _let’s have it, mama._

“I screwed up with my boss.” 

  
  


_Aight,_ so they really _are_ playing this game. “Never gooood,” he tells her.

Elizabeth’s looking at him again. He can _feel_ it. He won’t look at her; won’t give her the satisfaction. Plus he knows what he will find if he does; those beautiful blue eyes, wide in her face; that sweet, lying mouth of hers; that hair that he wants to sink his fingers into. He stares straight ahead. 

  
  


‘I’m still valuable though and he knows it.” 

Rio almost nods at her. Instead, he draws in his lower lip and thinks, _Yeah... Yeah, you are, sweetheart. Come on then, mama… Ask me for what you need and let me give it you._

  
  


“And I only did it because he works me to the bone and doesn’t pay me anything.” 

_Really?_ That’s how she wants to play this? Blame him after everything when she’s the one who’s literally been stealing from him literally from day 1? And she’s been skimming off the top of every load of money she has printed for more than the last month. And he has tried to turn a blind eye but now it’s gotten so that he has to put a stop to it. 

  
  


He doesn’t get it. One minute she genuinely seems to be on the same page as him. Then he turns his back and she does something else to screw him over; like pretending the cost of ink has gone up. He has known what she’s been up to for a while now. He hadn’t reacted for two reasons; one and a half weeks ago, she had provided him a water-tight alibi when he had needed to get his hands dirty and kill off Yuri, the leader of the gang which had been trying to muscle in on the Eastside, Rio’s turf. 

  
  


It had been a bad business; Yuri had ordered Rio’s warehouse attacked and in the process, two of Rio’s guys were seriously injured. Even though they survived, it had been imperative that Rio make a statement. So he, Mick, Demon and Dags had dispatched Yuri and five of his guys on one night. Snatched them from 2 different houses and delivered them to their maker. And then made sure that the bodies were found; all of them floating in a river two days later. That had given the Detroit underworld pause; they would think twice before trying to make a move on his territory or going after his boys again. 

Only Mick and Dietrich know the other reason Yuri and those specific 5 guys had had to die. Yuri had told Rio that he had _boots on the ground looking_ for Elizabeth. Looking for her to hurt her. His fate was sealed by those words. Rio had killed him for them. Killed him hard. Killed him in about five minutes but killed him hard just the same. Yuri had barely been recognizable by the time Rio was done with him.

  
  


Rio’s alibi had been Elizabeth. They had put on a show; had a very loud and public lovers’ spat while having dinner at the Arden and then abruptly left the table. They had made it obvious that they were going to work off their angst between the sheets.

And they had actually done just that; he had been only been too happy to give it to her like she wanted; like she needed. Heat stirs low in his belly; _Come on! Think with your head, Rio. Not your…well, other head_ . There’s that juvenile thought again. _Shit!_ Why does it always make him want to giggle? 

  
  


Yes, Elizabeth had provided a solid alibi. So solid in fact that when the FBI had some sniffing around three days later, Rio had been only too happy to send them along to the Arden Hotel where no doubt, security footage and gossip of him and Elizabeth kissing and loving it up were in no short supply.

  
  


To cut a long story short, now they’re sleeping together; have slept together. Twice so far and both times…scratch that; both _nights- each night had been three or four times…_ it has been almost a religious experience. _Christ! It’s been so, so good. For both of them._ He has every intention of making sure there’s a third, fourth and ninety-seventh time…scratch that; ninety-seventh _night;_ or day. _Yes_ , _I want it on the regular but I’ll be damned if she thinks I’ll act the fool for her._

  
  


That’s the second reason he had allowed her skimming to go unchecked for so long; the fact that he’s hitting it. He had told himself as he drove to her place late in the night that first time, that he would have it out with her about the skimming. But he had _known_ that he was deceiving himself. Dean and the kids were not home; she would already be asleep. He had just wanted to see her; talk to her; maybe get a chance to touch her. That was idiotic, he knows; letting pleasure interfere with business. But then the sex had been so good it beggared belief. And he was hooked.

  
  


He has had enough of her stealing from him now though. Yes, Rio knows he is being an asshole but he doesn’t understand why she couldn’t just have told him she needed to work out a better arrangement. Well, actually…maybe he _does_ know. She’s still afraid of him; _which is necessary,_ he has to remind himself. Plus she would rather rob him than ask for a new deal so soon after sleeping with him. It’s a pride thing, he knows.

  
  


Either way though, she owes him; the value of one near-death experience at her hand. And that’s not going to be wiped off the slate by one alibi and some nookie; even if the nookie is so good, he could almost touch heaven. _Yeah, mama; closest to heaven I’ll ever get,_ he thinks. _My own little gangsta’s paradise is you._

  
  


_Fuck! This whole thing is a mess._ But after that Yuri-alibi, she has earned the right to a better deal. She just has to ask for it and stop treating him like an idiot. _What’s the purpose of having a queen if she treats you like a joker?_

  
  
  


He remembers giving her the keys to the kingdom. Remembers her sitting on this very barstool she is sitting on right now. Remembers ordering her a bourbon on the rocks rather than a rosé; passing her little test. He remembers how she had looked at him when she realized that he saw her; 

that he wanted to see her; 

that he wanted to see her be herself;

that he wanted to see her be everything she could be;

that he wanted to see her see herself like he saw her; 

Elizabeth…in _all_ her glory. 

  
  


She had dropped the key on the bar and walked out; still afraid to be the queen of his kingdom. He had called out after her, “The kingdom’s in your name.” _Goddamn you, Elizabeth! The whole fuckin’ kingdom has been yours since that day. And all you ever had to do was just stop treating me like an idiot and take it._ He’s tired of this game. 

“What do you want, Elizabeth?” Rio’s face is stony when he turns to her.

  
  


“Just what’s fair.” 

He almost blows an aneurysm. _Fair?! Fuck!_ He wants to grab her by the shoulders and shake her like a ragdoll. _Fair?! Fair is me putting three slugs in you and walking away!_ he wants to scream. _Fair is me taking you away from Kenny and Danny and Emma and Jane so they are too freaked out to sleep just like Marcus is afraid to sleep. Goddamnit, Elizabeth._

He laughs, because the alternative is to rage or to…something. 

  
  


He reminds her that he doesn’t owe her. _She_ owes _him._ He looks at her and that’s when she does it; turns those wide eyes full on him and asks if they can’t go back. He had thought he was ready for her. He wasn’t.

  
  


Because you see; night time makes him weak for her… _weaker_ for her. _Goddamn you, Elizabeth. Is it because I’ve been stealing time from your nights since I met you, mama?_

He thinks of all the times he’s been around her at night; how he had taken the pearls she had left for him, watched her drink bourbon and ask him for a job under that naked light in her kitchen while he was so hard for her;

how he has stepped up to her a hundred times, put guns to her head a thousand times, threatened her a million times;

how he had fucked her while her husband waited, smashed a car because she wouldn’t choose him;

how he had yelled at her and called her a drug-dealer and yet still went to look for Jane and the dubby;

how he had sat in his car with her, unable to look at her and told her she was _just work_ then blackmailed her, kidnapped her, got shot by her;

how he had killed her friend, called her _just business_ , got stabbed by her;

how he had made her beg for him inside her, had had her mouth on his cock and almost surrendered to her…

all of that fuckin’ happened in the night. _Jesus! That’s a fuckton of things in our history. Is it any wonder I’m so screwed?_

  
  


And he’s been stealing her time in the nights but now he thinks maybe she’s been stealing his love on those same nights. _And yes… Yes, I just wanna surrender to you, sweetheart. Christ! I’m so fucked. Damn you, Elizabeth._

  
  


So now he _really_ needs to leave. Because he wants to tell her, “Yes.” Yes, they can go back. _Fuck!_ Yes, he wants to go back. But they can’t do that; not the way things are right now. But all he can see is her mouth and it looks like it’s just been kissed and he wants to kiss it himself. He wonders who she’s let kiss her tonight; her husband? He can’t quite see that. Another guy? _Nah._ But just the very idea of it makes him irritated. 

  
  


_And_ now his mind is on her mouth. And he knows where on his body that mouth has been. Because he can almost feel it sear his skin again like she has just branded him with her kisses. And he remembers everything that mouth has ever done to him; remembers the Time less than two weeks ago when it had been fluttering around his cock just the same way her cunt flutters… _Goddamn, Elizabeth._

He wants her so bad he is aching. _Take me, Mr Kowalski. Take me to Church_ , she had told him. He tries to contain the shiver going down his spine. The thought echoes. _Take me, Mr Kowalski. Take me to Church._ He bites his lip. _What the fuck was that even? Goddamn you, Elizabeth. You saucy minx._

  
  


_And_ if he concentrates, he can sort of smell cherry blossom; and now he is so desperate to come inside her and drop his head on her shoulder and breathe her in; _fuckin’ cherry blossom._

_And_ those polka dots remind him of her in _the_ bathroom in another polka-dot dress. And the awareness of how close that bathroom is feels like an itch between his shoulder blades that he is dying to scratch. 

  
  


_And_ why is he thinking of that accursed string of pearls? He _should_ throw it away; he _will never_ let it go. 

  
  


Rio takes a breath; clears his throat; steadies himself. “That’s up to you.” He tells her they don’t get to go back unless she earns it. And he knows it’s a lie because she will never earn it. And this thing between them is futile because she will screw him over again and he’ll have to punish her again. And on and on and on forever. Unless he caves to her. And _Fuck_ ! His feelings have been a mess since he started sleeping with her again; he’s feeling things. He’s feeling things that worry him; like he could maybe, sorta, kinda, almost angry-love her. _What a stupid, stupid mess._

  
  


Again, he’s not ready when she says, “Okay.” She sounds sincere; like she understands; like she means it. 

He can’t help himself; he turns to her, tilts his head at her and his Voice. his Face. his Eyes. his Smile go softer than he means for them to be when he asks her, “Yeah?” 

  
  


“I’ll do anything.”

He needs to leave. He needs to leave right fuckin’ now. Because he is teasing –maybe flirting a little- when he says, “Anything, huh?” but he’s also thinking of the _anything_ he wants from her.

  
  


He is just teasing but her pupils dilate and she flushes a little. Now _she_ is thinking of the _anything_ they could do together. 

“Within reason,” she says. 

_Aaaah! There she is. There’s Elizabeth; always wanting but not always quite willing._ He bites back his smile. 

  
  


“You still got your momma van? I might have something for you.” She has got to make his kingdom whole. And she can start with helping clean up the mess she made. This particular job is not one she is going to enjoy. He needs to get rid of her rotten egg, Boomer but she has to deliver Boomer to him. She’ll hate it. But if he’s got to be that corded steel that she needs, then the least she can do is be that soft touch that delivers his prey to him.

  
  
  


Rio thinks he has finally understood Elizabeth; she is never going to enforce her will on the point of a knife or the barrel of a gun unless it’s in self-defence. She is too soft; too compassionate; not severe enough – _except when she shoots_ **_me_ ** _or tries to stab_ **_me_ ** _to death._ How twisted is he that the thought turns him on; makes him feel like he’s something different to her; something… _special_? Why does it make his cock so fuckin’ hard? 

  
  


So he is going to have to do it for her; do the savagery she needs done for her; be the ruthlessness she doesn’t have. _I have to do it for her;_ why does that thought make his body ache? A thought he has had before recurs; _I wanna be your steel, mama._ There goes his body betraying him. He shifts in his seat. He can feel his pulse in his jeans.

  
  


But she’s going to pay for cleaning up the Boomer mess; owe him one; _another_ one. He’s starting to lose track of what exactly she owes.

It’s starting to feel like her account will never not be in the red. 

It’s starting to feel like she can never pay it off. 

It’s starting to feel like maybe he doesn’t need her to pay it off. 

It’s starting to feel like maybe he needs her to _give_ him _what_ _she wants;_ _how_ she wants. 

Because _Christ!_ When Elizabeth is wanting _and_ willing, she gives it to him so good.

Regardless of what _it_ is. 

She just gives it to him so good.

  
  


“I might have something for you.” 

“My ottoman?” 

Rio chuckles. _Damn! But that sweet, lying mouth is quick!_

He walks out.

  
  


He wants to brush her hair out of her face, trail his fingers over her arm as he goes. It is the hardest thing not to do it. But they don’t do that anymore. It’s odd but if he had got her between the sheets, he could do anything. But out here… _Nah!_ Out here is war. So no, he can’t touch her; why do his hands almost ache to touch her? 

  
  


**چوچو**

As he walks out, Rio remembers an old conversation; two months ago Elizabeth had refused to print his money and griped about Lucy’s boyfriend being devastated. Irritated that there was **no cash** that night, Rio had wanted Lucy’s boyfriend’s address so that Mick could take care of him. Elizabeth had refused. 

  
  


At the next drop, Elizabeth had claimed that ink prices had shot up practically overnight. Rio had taken the invoice for ink from her, looked into her too-wide-to-be-honest eyes, known he was being scammed and yet had been unable to help thinking how good she looked with the light breeze catching her hair and ruffling it. He had wanted to step up to her and tuck it behind her ear. Instead, he had buried his hands deeper in his pockets and asked after Lucy’s boyfriend; “How’s the boyfriend?”

“He got over it,” Elizabeth had said. Her voice had been heavy with hidden meaning. 

  
  


“Good,” Rio had responded. “They always do.” His lips had thinned out, curled a little; contempt for the little games he and Elizabeth were compelled to play now. But then the contempt for himself had set in as he turned to walk away. A thought had made him despise himself; _Fuck! When did I start thinking of myself as Elizabeth’s boyfriend?_ Rio could swear Elizabeth’s “ _he got over it”_ had been directed at him. Her silent accusation, _You got over me, Rio._

  
  


_How’s the boyfriend?...He got over it…Good, they always do._

Well, that had been a lie; a knife that Rio had been trying to stick it to her with. Instead, he had felt it twist in his own gut when he realized that he was not over her; he was not over Elizabeth.

_I_ **_am_ ** _over her,_ Rio had tried to convince himself. But he hadn’t been, had he? _Fuck! I’m the_ **_sad ex_ ** _who got screwed,_ he had acknowledged to himself as he stepped into his car; the thought had tasted bitter in his mouth. _3 bullets to the chest is one helluva_ **_break up_ ** _._

  
  


It had almost made him feel better to know that she too had maybe thought of him as her boyfriend. Almost. Then he had remembered; “Let’s not label it,” Elizabeth had once said. So they hadn’t. It wasn’t a break-up. He wasn’t the ex. She had never really wanted him for her boyfriend. 

**_Fuck love_ ** _every day and twice on Sundays,_ he had thought to himself as he shut the car door.

چوچو

  
  


_Fuck love, right? Right?_

_Fuck love even now, right?_

So why is he now thinking about them together as he walks out of _their_ bar?

That he so wants to be the fierce hardness she needs; _her corded steel hidden in silk._

That he so wants her to be the gentle touch he needs; _his midas in a velvet glove._

_We could be so good together, Elizabeth._

Why does he want to show her just how good?

_Fuck, mama! We could be so fuckin’ good._

_Together._

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For MissTricey 😘😘


	25. So Good Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Are Brio having a baby? Or not?
> 
> Omg! I think they are!! 😍💓

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MissTricey, Giiirl, I hope this makes you so happy. 😘😘
> 
> Cinnamon_schnapps: thank you so much for imagining the most perfect Rio scent, vanilla and bergamot, in your story, RISKY BUSINESS. Please check it out ppl, it's so so good. ❤️❤️
> 
> Isabela: I really hope you are so happy you could cry. 😘😘
> 
> Shawnee423: I screamed when I saw your comment that beth has not been going to bars but not drinking. You!!! You're so insightful! 😍😍
> 
> S_t_c_s, I aspire to write Brio like you write Brio. You're so damn good. 💞
> 
> Thank you to all of you lovely readers who kept reading this long-ass story. Thanks for the kudos. Taking a 5 day break to write a bit and will continue on Saturday. 😘😘
> 
> Brio forever: I'm going down with this ship💕

**_So Good Together_ **

**Beth:** _We don’t do no conversations;_

_we don’t talk like we used to_

_You act like we’re all good sometimes;_

_you know I hate it_

_Cause it’s so obvious it ain’t true…_

_\--_

**Rio:** _Like every night is one of us acting aggressive_

_The other one’s acting possessive_

_Guess it’s the way we do shit now_

_Maybe I’m crazy; maybe we’re crazy_

_But no one loves me better than you_

_\--_

**Brio:** _You and Me, we never say we’re sorry;_

_hands around my body,_

_Fucking till we’re good; fucking till we’re good_

_And we promise we’ll do better; both go down together_

_Fucking till we’re good_

\--

_If it isn’t love, then tell me why do we hurt so good?_

_So good together?_

**Mood Music credit: Good Together by Shy Martin**

Rio steps out into the night air. Even out here, he can almost feel her. He knows she’ll leave soon. He should go. He buries his hands in his pockets; waits.

Elizabeth comes out of the bar. She’s walking fast. She is on the phone. The cab pulls up and he can see the driver still on the phone with her. She hangs up and opens the cab door. It is Rio’s hand on the door that makes her look up. 

  
  


“Anything?” he asks her. “Or anything within reason?”

She kisses him. She just goes up on her tippy-toes and kisses him. 

He pushes her away and says, “Nothing changes.”

She kisses him. 

He steps back, his hand still on the cab door. His voice is hard when he says, “You’re not hearing me, Elizabeth. You get nothing. Nothing changes.”

She kisses him. And breathes against his mouth, “I don’t want anything.”

 _Fuck!_ He _does_. 

  
  


Rio closes the cab door and slips the driver a 50. Then he’s walking to his car and she’s walking beside him. When he gets to the car, he pauses with his keys in his hand; looks at her over the hood of the car. She looks back at him, says nothing. 

_Polka dots, huh? Damn, mama,_ he thinks. 

“Get in the car, Elizabeth,” he growls. 

  
  


They don’t talk. Not in the car. Not in the elevator as they go up to his new loft. Not as he unlocks the door and holds it open for her. Not until she steps inside and he steps in after her, pushes her against the door and snarls, “Absolutely noth...”

Her mouth is on him before he is done talking. She swallows the word _nothing_. 

  
  
  


**چوچو**

**Rio:** _Hey, hey, hey; Where do you think you're going?_

_It's so late, late, late; What's wrong?_

_Fate, fate, fate; Is that what came between us?_

_Or did we do this on our own?_

\--

 **Beth:** _I said, "I can't stay; do I have to give a reason?_

_It's just me, me, me; it's what I want_

_Three weeks now, we've been so caught up_

_Better if we do this on our own_

\--

 **Brio:** _Before I love you; I'm gonna leave you_

_I'll break your heart so you don't break mine_

_Even if I'm not here to stay; I still want your heart_

_Your heart for takeaway_

**Mood Music Credit: Take Away** by **Illenium** and **The chainsmokers**

  
  


Something awakens him. Elizabeth is no longer in the bed even though her pillow is still warm. _She’s left._ Just like he had left her place while she was still asleep. Why do they still do this; leave as though they’re afraid they’ll get kicked out? He wasn’t going to kick her out. Yes, he knows; _I’ve kicked her out before so of course, she’d leave._ He feels a twinge of regret. 

  
  


Rio has an inexplicable feeling that maybe she kissed him before she left. Just like he had kissed her before he left. He takes a breath, exhales her name into the darkness, “Elizabeth.”

“I’m just leaving,” her voice in the dark.

  
  


That’s when he sees her; sees her polka dots in the semi-darkness. She is bent over like she is looking for something. He holds out a hand to her; her panties are in it. “Looking for these?” 

She reaches out for them as he slips naked out of bed and switches on the bedside lamp. He holds on to the panties, refuses to let go. Something has been nagging at him all night; the taste of her mouth. _Strawberries. No bourbon. Again._ Just like at the Arden hotel one and a half weeks earlier.

  
  


“I gotta go. My cab is waiting.”

“Wait,” Rio catches her hand but lets her take the panties. She won’t meet his eyes. “Can you look at me?”

  
  


“Rio, we said nothing tonight, remember?” Elizabeth says but she looks at him anyway. She wants to bolt; she hates the rollercoaster that they’re on. She just doesn’t know how to get off; doesn’t think she can get off. One minute things are hot and heavy; the next Rio is cleaning out her house. _And I’m stealing from him_ , she acknowledges to herself. _And then I’m back in his bed again; hot and heavy again._ And then she’s calling a cab to go back to Dean and she thinks maybe she just wants to stay in Rio’s arms. So she just can’t do this now. Talk. Or whatever this is. She needs to go...before it hurts more to leave him.

  
  


He searches her eyes as though he will find his answer there. 

“You didn’t touch your drink.”

Elizabeth startles. Then she tugs her hand out of his. He knows the answer for sure the moment she bites her lip. “You can drink _After,”_ he had said; they had both known which _After_ he meant.

  
  


“You’re still pregnant.” It’s a question; it’s a statement. She starts to turn away; he holds her shoulders. 

“You’re still pregnant.” He repeats. 

Suddenly, she looks so tired. She gets a pinched look to her face; he knows those tears in her eyes will not fall tonight. She never cries when he would expect her to. He holds her gaze.

“Yes.” It’s such a hopeless and broken sound that it makes his chest hurt.

  
  


“But you said…” 

She cuts him off, “What do you want me to say, Rio? I know what I said, okay. I’m going to figure out what…I don’t know…” She wrenches herself away and he thinks that now, she’ll cry. But she’s just pulling on her panties. She starts to walk to the door, grabbing her purse as she goes. 

“Wait.”

She doesn’t stop. 

  
  


His palm sounds like a pistol shot when it slams into the door. She flinches and steps back but he cages her between his arms and the door. He feels so…angry. He’s been so sad about this. He’s been hurting so bad about this. And all the while she was still pregnant? He squeezes his eyes tight, opens them and his voice is very, very quiet when he says,

“When were you going to tell me? Or were you just not going to? How did you think that would work?”

“I have to go, Rio. My cab is waiting.”

“Let. It. Wait.” He bites off each word. He wants to pound the door; he is so livid that he is shaking inside. He focuses on his breath; calms himself. _Christ! How does she make me go from zero to 60 in 3 seconds?_

“When were you going to tell me? Are you keeping it?”

“Tell you what, Rio? You don’t want it; I get it.” Her voice is cold. “It’s not your business anymore.”

  
  


He can feel that aneurysm again, “Excuse me? _I_ don’t want it? _I_ don’t want it? What makes _you_ think you can tell me what _I_ want?” 

“You said…” 

He shuts her down. “I said?” He covers his mouth, drags his hand down; he wants to curse. “ _You_ said, Elizabeth. _You_ said! _You_ came into the bar and _you_ had Mick wake me at 3am and _you_ sat next to me and _you_ told me…”

  
  


“I’m leaving, Rio.” she sounds tired, fed-up.

He drops his hand from the door. His voice is ice when he says, “You wanna leave? Fine. Grow a pair, Elizabeth. Leave…and you and me are done. For good; done!”

She sputters, “Me? Me grow a pair! Me?” Her voice rises with each word. “That’s rich coming from you! You who couldn’t man up enough to look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want the baby!”

  
  


“ _Who_ said I don’t want the baby? _When_ did I tell you I don’t want the baby, huh?” _Christ!_ Every word she says feels like gasoline on the fire of his rage. He curses under his breath.

She turns to leave, “I’m done.”

Her hand is on the knob when he spits out, “That’s your thing, isn’t it? Always leaving, aren’t you? You never stick around to deal with the consequences of your actions. Just like you shot me and ran away to your perfect little life, didn’t you? You can’t run from this, though. If you don’t want the baby, _that’s on you_. It’s not like I get to have an opinion, do I?”

  
  
  


Elizabeth is almost purple with rage when she turns back to him and says, “Well, the next time you want to not have an opinion, maybe don’t send someone else to do your dirty work and not have that opinion for you.”

“What the hell are you even talking about?” the curse word escapes him; he cringes internally. He doesn’t often curse in front of her.

  
  


Her face twists. “Please. I’m supposed to believe your hotshot lawyer took time out of her busy schedule to tell me to ‘exercise my options’ on her own?” She makes the air-quotes right in his face and continues, “Without your instructions? How stupid do you think I am?” 

“What are you talking about, Elizabeth? Who? Zorada? She told you what? When? She would never.”

She scoffs, disgusted at him. “So now you’re calling me a liar too? Or do you think I hallucinated her saying it’s her job to protect your interests and I should exercise my options?”

“I didn’t send anyone to tell you anything about the baby. When have you not known me to do my own ‘ _dirty work’_ , Elizabeth?” He makes air-quotes right back in her face.

“You mean like when you had Mick kill Lucy for you?” she scoffs at him.

  
  


Rio is quiet. He takes a breath. Then he explodes, “How the…” He swallows the curse. “…are those two things related? Lucy; that was business! You, the baby; that’s personal.” 

  
  


He wants to smash something so bad. A thought pops into his head; _A tire iron and a neon corvette; that’s what I need._ “Get your head on straight, Elizabeth. Those two things are _not_ the same. And you better learn to separate them.”

Elizabeth sniggers at him again, “Yeah? How? I’m in both; you’re in both; now your lawyer is in my life talking about your interests and _my options_.”

  
  


“You’re not hearing me, Elizabeth. You’re just not hearing me.” he repeats and thumps his fist on the door; wonders vaguely how much the neighbours can hear; finds he doesn’t actually care. “I did not send Gretchen to you.” 

Elizabeth scoffs. “Yeah? Then why was she at my work two days before I told you I’m not keeping it? You must have told her to tell me _something_.”

Rio shuts his eyes, puts his head on the door, “Fuckin’ hell. At your work? Goddammit, Zorada.”

  
  


Elizabeth is still talking, “And when I told you I’m not keeping it, all you had to say was ‘When?’ Like I couldn’t do it fast enough for you.”

“What?! No! What the fuck! No, that’s not what I meant. No.” 

  
  


Rio is feeling murderous; a bit stupid too; as though he’s working on a puzzle but can’t complete it because some pieces are missing. Gretchen would never do this; go to see Elizabeth without his instructions. He plays back every conversation with her in which Elizabeth ever came up. That’s when he remembers it; the conversation he had had with Zorada over lunch. 

  
  


“Have you told Rhea?” Zorada had asked.

“Told her what, Zorada? I just told you and you’re already at me about paternity. 

“Yeah…But that’s why you’re telling me; because I need to know when to protect your interests.

“Yeah,” Rio remembers saying, “You gotta do what you need to do, Counselor. So now you’re in the loop.” 

  
  


He can kind of almost see how Gretchen could have misinterpreted that to mean that she had to manage Elizabeth. Of course, he had not meant it that way and he thinks the only reason Zorada would have made that mistake was because she was already antagonized by Elizabeth. So she had let her feelings about Elizabeth color her interpretation of what he had said.

He had told Gretchen via email 1 week later that there would be no need for a paternity test as Elizabeth wasn’t keeping the baby and as usual she had just responded with one word, “Noted.”

He is mad at Gretchen. He is mad at himself; he should have been clearer.

  
  


Then Rio realizes how much more at fault he is; he had asked Elizabeth the wrong question. When she told him she wasn’t keeping the baby, he asked her the wrong question. Not _Why?_ but _When?_ Because of his fuckin’ pride. Because he had been so fuckin’ tired of her and the whole fuckin’ mess; he hadn’t asked what he should have. Hadn’t tried to understand. Hadn’t given her a chance to explain. 

And she had taken that as confirmation that he couldn’t wait for her to get on with it. _Christ!_

  
  


Then he realizes that it’s a lot worse; he had opened Elizabeth’s nightstand for a pen before Mick had packed up her bedroom. There had been some cards in there and one had looked familiar but he had been distracted and hadn’t paid attention. He has a pit in his stomach when he realizes why it had seemed familiar; he has several of them in his house and car. That was Zorada’s business card. And he had seen it and he had been too hell-bent on punishing Elizabeth to see what was right under his nose. His pride; his need to get her to toe the line had blinded him to the one thing he needed to see in that nightstand.

  
  


And _Christ!_ He had pulled the trigger on Elizabeth three times when she was still carrying his baby. Three times! He had almost killed her and the baby inside of her. She had attacked him while she was pregnant. And all the while she had known he would fight back. Maybe hurt her. Maybe kill her. The thought makes him crazy with rage and fear inside… and sadness. _Fuck, mami! Is that how bad you wanted me gone?_ Rio feels like choking; he wants to gasp. He takes a calming breath...and another.

  
  


“I didn’t send anybody to you, mama.”

She pushes at him, tries to slip beneath his arm. “I have to go. My husband knows I came to meet you.”

“And what? I’m supposed to just let you go back to him, _right now_ in the middle of _this_ conversation?” His voice is bitter. She just stands and watches him. She doesn’t know what to say to that. Isn’t that what he wants? Nothing to do with her?

  
  


“Elizabeth…” 

She squeezes her eyes shut; he’s using _the voice_. The one that makes her weak at the knees. The one that makes her panties practically peel themselves off her body. He brushes her belly with his hand; splays his fingers on it, holds her pressed between his body and the door. His touch is gentle; almost achingly so. 

  
  


“You gotta believe me, mama. I didn’t send Gretchen to you; I wouldn’t do that.” 

She starts to interrupt. 

“Nah, mama. You know me. I show up for you; even for the hard stuff. Especially for the hard stuff. I show up, Elizabeth. You know I do. So you just gotta believe me, sweetheart. I didn’t send her to you.” 

Rio pauses, then, “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry I fucked this up.” 

  
  


His face drops to her shoulder, “I’m gonna kill her, of course.” She shrinks. He laughs weakly. “Not kill her for real, ma. Just rip her a new one.” Rio’s voice is pleading, “Say you believe me, so I can just be happy about this?”

  
  


Her eyes pop open. “Happy?”

“Yeah, mama. Say you believe me, sweetheart so I can be happy. Happy you’re still pregnant with my baby.” She puts a hand on his chest…tentatively, like she’s not sure whether she wants to. 

Rio nods at her, “I’m happy, Elizabeth.”

“Yeah?” her voice is barely a whisper.

  
  


“Yeah, mama.” He’s nodding at her as he unzips her dress, unclasps her bra, pushes them off her, and drops to his knees. The door is cold against her thighs and back. He brushes his lips over her belly. Now that he’s looking for it, the start of the baby bump is so obvious that he doesn’t know how he could have failed to see it before. Her fingers ghost up his neck, hold onto his head and he sighs a warm breath on her skin.

  
  


“I should go,” she says softly.

“Yeah.” Neither of them moves.

“Cab’s waiting,” she whispers.

“Yeah.” But his hands are warm on her thighs and he has slipped one finger under the top edge of her panties.

“Rio, I should…”

“No.” It’s short, firm. His hands are peeling off her panties. He stops. Looks up at her. says again, “Just no.” Like that. Like he will brook no argument. 

  
  


Her brow furrows; she bites her lip at him and gnaws. Unsure. Uncertain of what she wants right now. Rio is holding her troubled gaze when he says, his face looking up at her from between her legs, “No, Elizabeth. Please not now, mama. I’m going to take you back to that bed and I’m going to fuck your sweet pussy till you come for me again. And then, I’ll come inside of you just the way you like. And then, mama…I’ll lick every last drop of you and me out from you. And then you’ll let me hold you and my baby. That’s what we need to do, mama. That’s what we both need.” The husk in his voice is like something she has never heard before; rough, raw, ragged.

  
  


She whines, creams herself. He rubs his nose on her clit. His nose-ring touches her. She whimpers. She wants to feel that again; his nose-ring on her again. He growls at her; throaty and hungry. 

  
  


“And I still haven’t decided if I’m going to let you go home tonight.” _To your husband_ hangs unsaid between them. 

Rio is still speaking, “Because my baby…” He kisses her belly, pulls her panties all the way off her legs and tosses them aside. “My baby is inside of you, mama. And darling, if you ever even thought for a moment that you were mine before this…” He laughs, a growling, sweetly-threatening sound, “Fuck, mami! After this, you’ll never be anyone else’s again.” 

  
  


She moans, a needy desperate sound.

“Okay?” he says from between her legs. She whimpers again. 

“Okay, mama?” he asks again; voice firm, unyielding. 

“mmmmmm,” she hums assent and nods. 

  
  


“Say it, Elizabeth,” he demands. 

“Okay, Rio.” She nods at him. She wants him. Exactly as he has said. 

He kisses her clitoris then, puts his tongue deep in her, tastes her; sweet and salty and warm all at the same time. _Christ!_ He loves the taste of her. He wants more; he pulls her left leg over his right shoulder, palms her ass and pulls her closer; licks lightly at her labia; probes deeper with his tongue. 

  
  


And he stands with his face still in her cunt; as he stands, he pulls her other leg over his left shoulder so that she’s astride his shoulders. He straightens pressing her between him and the door; his face still in her cunt. She gasps, drops her purse, grabs onto his head. She thinks she’s surely going to fall.

But he’s got her. One hand on her ass pressing her to his mouth and the other high up on her shoulder, he pushes her back into the door and flicks his tongue over her clitoris. Then he lets her slide off his shoulders to his chest, locks his arms beneath her ass, takes five long strides to the bed and drops her gently in it. 

  
  


She thinks it’s ridiculous really the things he does; and seemingly, for no apparent reason other than...he can. She hates how much she loves it. 

“I got you, ma.” His face goes between her thighs again. “I always got you, ma,” he says into her cunt. She creams his face with her slick. He licks her folds, tongue flicking quick and light on the lips of her pussy. He rubs his nose-ring on her clitoris. She moans. He smiles and does it again. _Has anything ever tasted so good._

  
  


So he tells her, “You taste so, so good, mama.” She can feel his beard on her cunt and on the inside of her thighs. She whines. “I could eat you all night and never have enough.” She makes one of those strangled noises that he loves. His tongue presses gently into her vagina. She tilts her pelvis up at him; grabs his head and pulls it into her cunt. He gasps; probes deeper. Rubs his nose-ring on her clitoris. She moans loudly. Out of control. Then, he takes one long lick right from her vagina, between her folds and all the way to her so-hard nub.

She shudders and pushes her hips repeatedly into his face with little jerks; when she lifts her ass entirely off the bed, he palms it with both hands, lifts his head off her and holds her up, open, exposed, pelvis tilted up at him. He looks down at her; she is so wet, glistening. _You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, mama._

  
  


Then he settles back on his knees and tilts his head to look at her face; he bites his lip; shakes his head; says, “fuckin’ hell, Elizabeth! You’re my baby mama.” 

She inhales with a hiss; bites her lip, closes her eyes and still her hips lift up to him; wanting the feel of him again. _…his baby mama._ Why does that make her so desperate for him?

  
  


He drives into her then; still holding her up and open, so that in that first hard thrust, he’s sheathed to the hilt in her. She cries out; a strange mix of pleasure and pain on her face. He does it again. Her mouth forms that little **_o_ **that makes him feel wild and reckless every time he sees it. she gasps, “Rio…”

“Want me to stop, ma?” 

“No, no…” her eyes are wide in her face, her voice pleading, “No… don’t stop, no.”

“Does it hurt, mama?”

“Yes…” she moans. “I want more…more, Rio.” 

Rio shakes, inhales hard, groans on the exhale. _Fuck!_

  
  


He fucks her then; like he’s never fucked anything in his life. He fucks her hard and is fascinated by the way her tits bounce when he thrusts into her. When she’s teetering on the edge of her climax, he pulls out, kneels between her thighs and settles back on his heels. Cock hard and heavy and glistening with her juices and his pre-cum, he watches her face. 

  
  


She whines, gulps...she’s got a look almost like pain on her face. She whimpers, “Please Rio…” it reminds him of her, a few weeks earlier, sobbing, “Please, Rio…I want you.” In a rare moment of absolute clarity into what makes Elizabeth tick, he asks himself, _Did I do this? Did I unlock this little masochist?_ Because he _knows_ , -he _knows_ like with a gun to his head, he would bet his actual life on it- she does _not_ beg for Carman. He shivers. _Christ! That’s a good feeling._ He doesn’t touch her; just takes his hands off her and stays perfectly still between her legs until she calms herself down. 

  
  


Then he does it again. Fucking slow and sweet into her this time; taking his time; as though he’s got all the time in the world. And as far as he’s concerned, he does. He’s got at least four and a half months and 18 years before his kid is out of her house. Which means _he_ has got _at least_ four and a half months and 18 years of being around Elizabeth. And then, hopefully, a lifetime. But just for tonight…just for tonight, he’ll happily take the four and a half months and 18 years. Tomorrow, he’ll start chasing the lifetime. And he means to use it.

  
  


**_Use it_ ** to put on her face that look of exquisite pleasure-pain-pleasure that she gets when he fucks her; use it to relieve that ache in his cock that he gets every time he’s with her; and use it to soothe that ache in his chest that takes hold and refuses to fuckin’ go away when she looks at him; when she looks at him like she’s almost too happy being with him; the way she’s looking at him right now. _Christ!_ He just wants this look on her face forever. 

  
  


He puts her left leg on his shoulder; grabs onto her thigh. Her right leg goes around his hip; draws him closer. He watches his cock sink into her pussy; come out slick with her juices. He groans. He does it again. And again…and again. And each time, his dick is wetter yet and her pussy keeps on making a squelching sound. _Christ!_ He loves how those pink lips part for him; he shudders as he thrusts into her again. 

  
  


He tilts his head and watches her; her eyes drift shut, her lips part. Her back arches; her tits heave with each breath she takes. She throws her head back; bares her throat to him. Rio inhales a hiss and groans an exhale; _God! Why is it so good today? Has being in her always felt this good?_ He bites the inside of his lip. Keeps fucking her breathlessly. She cries out; moans over and over again.

She makes that little **_o_ ** face again, pants and he literally sees the orgasm about to hit her. He pulls out. “Nooooo…..no…. Rio, please….no.” She writhes, tightens her legs around him and tries to pull him back to her. For an instant, he wants to give in; give in to her; give in to that throbbing need in his dick that just wants to be in her. 

  
  


She’s getting angry now. She drags her nails on the bedsheet with a long, scratchy sound, like a cat sharpening its claws. He shivers; wishes she were doing that on his back already, marking him. _She will_ , when he finally lets her come; she’ll dig her nails into his shoulders or back or thighs…or any place she can reach. He loves it; loves taking the pain she dishes out to him in revenge. He loves how it stings as he showers for a couple of days after. He grins in anticipation then talks himself down from yielding.

 _Nah, mama,_ he thinks. _Not touching you till you get down off that edge._

  
  


He knows it will infuriate her but he does it anyway; starts talking about other things. “How’s baby been doing, mama? All good?” 

Elizabeth shakes her head at him. Her mouth twists in an almost-snarl. “Rio, no. Not now.” She hits out at him. He laughs at her, grabs her hands and kisses them.

  
  


“Answer me, mama. Baby’s all good, yeah?” She looks at Rio then; meets his eyes and sees that he’s not making casual conversation. He really wants to know. 

“Yes.” she can feel herself coming down off the edge. She doesn’t want to. 

“Gotta see the doctor again soon, yeah?”

She doesn’t want to talk about this right now. “Please, Rio…”

  
  


He rubs his jaw. He knows this is an ambush; her guard is all the way down. And he’s turning it into a drive-by, taking his shot while he can; when her walls are not up. When her hackles are not raised to fight him. 

He does it anyway; he doesn’t need her fighting him on this. His voice is so soft, so warm, so rough and sweet, like so much honey over crushed oven-roasted almonds when he says, “Ma…you’ve got to see the doctor soon; I’m taking you.” Then, in a yet more hoarse voice, “You’re keeping it, yeah? You’ll keep my baby, yeah?”

  
  


She comes all the way off her impending orgasm; looks at him and her eyes do that thing they do; they seem to grow in her face. _Fuck! that’s beautiful._ He doesn’t think he’ll ever get over it.

“You want to? Be there?”

Rio laughs, a little breathless, “I’m not missing a moment of this, okay? I’ll be there, darling. For you and for the baby. For every last minute of it.” 

  
  


He rubs his cock on her slit. She lifts her hips to him again, in little jerky movements. Trying to feel his hardness with her cunt. Trying to get it into her.

“Okay, mama?”

Elizabeth nods at him, “Okay.”

 _Good._

  
  


He pushes his cock back into her then. Fucks her hard, then slow. Then hard, then slow again. Until she thinks she might actually lose her mind. She’s almost there. She starts begging preemptively, “Please, Rio. Please don’t do it again. Please don’t stop this time.” 

He grins at her and there’s that hint of the predator in his eyes. “This what you want, mama?” He rides her so rough for a few moments. 

“Yes…yes…yes…yes…” 

He pulls her up into his arms; wraps his arms around her and whispers, “Shhhhh, mama. Shhh, I got you, darling. It’s okay. I got you, sweetheart.” Her arms go round his neck, cling tight to him, “Okay….okay,” she moans in his ear. 

  
  


“I’ve got you, darling. I’ll give you what you need, mami.” He can almost feel her relax into him, can feel her let herself trust him. It almost makes him come, almost undoes him; the way she lets him take control; the way she trusts that he does indeed have her. He inhales with a hiss; tilts his head back so he can see her face.

Elizabeth feels herself poised right at the edge of that most exquisite of deaths. She’s got relief on her face; relief that he’ll let her come when he thrusts hard into her, pulls out; looks her dead in the eye and says, “Come for me, mami. Come for me right fuckin’ now.” 

  
  


She hates it. She doesn’t want it. Not like this. Not without him in her. She tries to hold it off; shaking her head, a whine slips out; the orgasm starts. She tumbles into it and her cunt is fluttering and clenching…on nothing. And it almost hurts; it’s so good but it’s so…empty. She balls her hands into fists against his chest and Rio knows that she could almost hit him if she weren’t already coming. 

  
  


So she sobs again in frustration and when that first tear falls… then, he does that thing that he does; he thrusts hard into her; savage and raw; filling her and coming inside of her as she clenches around him. Her nails dig into his shoulders, scratch up his back; it hurts so good. He can hear the relief in her voice when she calls out his name, “Rio… Rio… Rio… Rio…” over and over. 

“I got you, mama. I got you, sweetheart.” he says over and over against her neck.

  
  


And still he rocks in her; and spills out in her. And that secret desire to get her pregnant that he’s been trying to hide even from himself has never felt so good; so good because it’s finally fulfilled. And so now he’s imagining her belly, round and heavy with his child when he groans out, “Fuck, mami!” and collapses onto the bed with her under him. _Cherry blossom._

  
  


**_Cherry blossom;_** _Fuck!_ His baby is inside of her, inside of Elizabeth. _Christ! When did that become the thing he wants the most?_ He’s going to be a dad all over again. Why is that thought causing his mouth to go dry? He’s a good dad to Marcus but damn, he has made some mistakes. He takes a steadying breath. 

**_Cherry blossom;_ ** He exhales. He can be a good dad. He is a good dad. He will be. For Marcus and for this baby. He wonders if maybe it’ll be a little girl. He can almost picture her. His chest tightens; he tries to catch his breath. 

**_Cherry blossom;_** Now irrevocably also the scent of the best sex of his life. Elizabeth shifts beneath him; _I must be crushing her._ Even though he doesn’t want to move his face from her neck, he goes to untangle his feet from hers. _Untangle my feet;_ he shivers. _Fuck! My feet are twined with hers, again._ He knows he’s fucked; _why do I keep doing this?_ It’s not an accident, he knows. _Oh, Fuck! I think maybe I might love her._ Rio takes a shuddering breath. 

**_Cherry blossom;_ ** The thought echoes; _I think maybe I might love her._ Half-heartedly, Rio tugs his right foot from where it’s twined with hers. She doesn’t let go of it. He wants to hate it. But he loves it. He wants more. _Oh, shit!_ He wants more. He wants it all. 

**_Cherry blossom;_ **He thinks of all the fights he’s going to have to fight because of Elizabeth; he tries to imagine what her husband will do to try and get her back from Rio; he thinks of killing Yuri because of her and how cold that had made him feel inside; thinks of how he’d do it again for her in a heartbeat; thinks of the war raging for his kingdom because of her and it makes him shudder. 

Then his spine steels. The mettle slips back into his heart. Because he’s got her. He takes a breath. Inhales her.

**_Cherry blossom;_** _To War, Rio; for kingdoms and for the women we love. We know, they’ll be the death of us,_ he remembers.

And now if he has got to be Mars because of what she did; if he must be that god of War that she needs; that god of War that she has compelled him to be…then it’s only right that she be his Venus. His scandalous, illicit love that he’s not willing to hide any longer. He kisses her neck, holds her close. 

  
  


**_Cherry blossom;_** _Venus,_ he thinks. _Elizabeth;_ _This Woman…_

who dominates him; subdues him; weakens him with desire, with lust, with longing, with sex… 

who braces him, spurs him on to want to win the whole damn kingdom so he can give it to her... 

who maddens him with thoughts of her fertility and how he means to reap a baby from her… 

who makes him ache from the thought of her belly, heavy and round with his child… 

It _is_ only right that she should carry his baby. 

  
  


**_Cherry blossom;_** Elizabeth. **_The_** Woman _. Mine._

 _Christ!_ When did he become the guy who wants her by his side ruling their kingdom but also _, I want her in my house; making pie and loving all our kids?_ _When did I become a fuckin’ caveman?_ The thought recurs; _Making pie and loving all our kids_ … _and me._

  
  


**_Cherry blossom;_** _And_ ** _me_** **.**

Dear Lord, he hopes she loves him more than just a little. 

Because a little is not enough anymore. 

It hasn’t been enough for the longest time. 

Choose **_me,_ ** darling.

Love **_me._ **

  
  


**_Cherry blossom;_** _Elizabeth! You’re having my baby, mama. Goddamn!_

He lifts his head and looks at her. She looks sleepy and in the corner of her right eye, is a small streak where that tear had slipped out of her eye. He’s always hated it when she cries. But now he’s starting to think, maybe he loves it. Maybe he loves that Elizabeth cries for him. Has always cried _for him_. 

  
  


He likes how she is with other people. She makes like she’s tough as nails; talking fast and spitting words like jagged little knives. But when it’s just him and her, sometimes she goes all soft and cries;

…and tells him the things she’s afraid off so he can take her fear away.

…and tells him where it hurts so he can comfort her.

…and tells him what’s wrong so he can fix it.

…and tells him what she needs so he can give it to her.

He has always done it; helplessly given her what she needs. And he has hated it; hated how it makes him feel all soft inside and weak when he gives her _exactly_ what she needs. Now, Rio thinks maybe he loves it.

**چوچو**

He remembers her throwing keys at his face and how furious he had been; the keys had hurt like a bitch and it had made him livid that she would even consider doing that. Then he had told her that she and he were done and she had freaked out. And she had thought that he was going to kill her; that she was a rotten egg. But Rio had known already that he was going to go back on his word that they were done. That he would cave and let her back in. That he couldn’t let her go just yet. 

  
  


And then he had heard the tears in her voice and he had come back; and tried to shove his anger aside to really make her understand; he just wanted her to go home and calm down. He wasn’t going to hurt her. But he had been too angry to want to hold her hand through her fear or comfort her. And even though he had tried just the same, he had given her less than she needed. And he had regretted it. _Fuck!_ She had sold him out to the cops.

  
  


So the very next time she had cried, he had given her exactly what she had needed. All the comfort she had wanted from him. Rio drops the memory of the keys; picks another one. Elizabeth with his golden gun in her hand…Dean bound to a chair; almost forgotten in the smoulder between Rio and Elizabeth. 

“What _are_ you doing, Elizabeth?”

“I don’t know… I just want it to be over.” Tears spilling out of her beautiful blue eyes; her mouth trembling and making him want to kiss that dimple in her chin.

  
  


“Yeah?” he asked her. Her eyes open and wide in her face, fear written in them.

“Okay…Let’s end it…For real….” Then Rio had looked into her eyes and something on his face had been softer than it would be for anyone else. And he had stepped right up to her so she could feel him close to her; so she could feel his warmth so close to her. “It’s alright… It’s okay…You did your best.” Rio taking his gun from her; his words already taking her fear away. Then him brushing her hair back from her face with his pinkie, comforting her; fixing what was wrong; giving her what she needed.

  
  


Then Rio had shot her husband to punish her anyway. _Yes, bad girls need to be punished._ And then he had said to her, “Okay, now we’re good, darling.” Because they were; they were good. He was not mad at her any more. And he _knew_ she would come back to him. 

STOP sign. Rio holds that well-loved memory close, plays it again, remembers. Elizabeth coming down that dimly-lit street to him; then standing in the darkness with him, breathing his breath; Tears sparkling in her eyes then, “I’m just so tired…and I can’t hide…not from you… and I can’t kill someone…are you going to kill me?” Her eyes open and wide in her face; just as he likes them best. 

  
  


Rio remembers straightening to his full height; stepping closer still so their chests grazed each other with each breath. And with his gun in his hand between them so it was lightly touching her, he had looked at her so softly that she knew he wouldn’t hurt her. And his voice was low and warm in the night; like a lover’s touch on her, “I’ll teach you.” 

Him taking her fear away; 

Him making her tears dry; 

Him pushing her hair out of her face, comforting her; 

Him fixing what was wrong;

Him giving her exactly what she needed. 

  
  


And every time Rio has given her less than exactly what she needs, the world just immediately goes to shit. Every time. Every. Single. Time. Without. Fail. _Fuck!_

That’s why Elizabeth shot him. That’s why he killed Lucy, for Chrissake. That’s why she’s been stealing from him and why his kingdom is a fuckin’ mess. Because he didn’t give her exactly what she needed. _Fuck!_ Maybe he just _needs_ to give her what _she_ needs. 

And now, every time he fucks her and she comes after he has teased and tortured her, she sobs for him and falls into him and he holds her close and takes away that hungry, empty feeling that makes her cry. Then she’s soft and warm and sleepy in his arms. Yes… he loves it when she goes all soft for him like she does for no one else. He fuckin’ loves it. 

_Christ! Maybe I really, actually do love her. I’m so fucked! Maybe I really just need to give her what she needs._

  
  


Rio tilts his head, smiles at her; she blinks her eyes lazily. “You all good, mama?”

She nods at him; just keeps nodding at him and blushing. His eyes follow the red stain down her face to her chest.

“Mmmmm…” he hums. He wants to rub his face all over those tits. But before he does, he’s got a job to do; he’s going to hold her and his baby till she _knows_ that she’s not doing this alone. He has got her, he’d said and he really does. Rio rolls off her onto his side, settles behind her, wraps his arms around her. “Do you need anything, mama? A drink, a snack? Anything?”

  
  


She shakes her head and sighs sleepily. She’ll be out like a light in a few minutes. Her fingers trace the tattoos on his arms for a minute or two, then fall away; she’s asleep. Rio smiles; _Damn! I love it when you do that, mami. Is it me? Do I make you exhausted, sweetheart?_ He twines his feet through hers.

  
  


He closes his eyes; she’ll be up soon and then…

And then, he’s going to lick her cunt till she comes again.

Maybe in the shower. 

Mmmh, he likes that.

Elizabeth will like that.

Maybe in the shower,

He’s going to lick her, taste her, tease her till she comes again. 

He promised her, didn’t he? 

  
  


**چوچو**

There is a small wooden box open on his nightstand, and nothing but a string of pearls on her, when Elizabeth kneels in front of him, an hour and a half later, and grinds down on him. Rio pulls her back flush against his chest, palms her tits; takes their weight in his hands _–so heavy; so full._ He takes a long, slow breath. Then he lets his hands fall to her waist. Elizabeth leans her head back on him. Her hair is still a bit damp on his shoulder. 

  
  


Rio’s hands splay at her waist, his fingers trail over her belly. He thinks of his baby inside of her and he wraps himself still closer around her. There’s a little baby who looks like him inside of her. _Another little boy, maybe...or girl._ He inhales sharply; _Christ! Maybe it’s a little girl._ He holds Elizabeth tighter; his fingers cradle her belly. _Maybe she looks like you, mama…like the way Emma looks like you, darling._

  
  


His face falls to the curve between Elizabeth’s neck and shoulder; he breathes her in. No more cherry blossom; she smells of his conditioner… **_of vanilla and bergamot._ ** He thinks he likes his scent on her. He catches himself wondering, _How are we still at it? How are we not spent? Jesus, mami. I want you so bad, all the time._ And he groans against Elizabeth’s neck when she settles around his cock.

  
  


Then he’s not thinking anymore. Just feeling; something tight in his chest that hurts so good. 

**Brio:** _One look and I can’t catch my breath_

_Oh, love, let me see inside your heart_

_All the cracks and broken parts_

_The shadows in the light_

_There’s no need to hide_

_\--_

_‘cause I’m on fire like a thousand suns_

_I couldn’t put it out even if I wanted to_

_These flames tonight_

_Look into my eyes and say you want me too_

_Like I want you._

_\--_

_It’s like a hunger in me,_

_Yeah, it’s never-ending_

_Yeah, I’ll burn for you_

_I burn for you_

**Mood music Credit: Hunger by Ross Copperman**

  
  


**چوچو**

It is four o'clock when she gets home and tiptoes into her bedroom. A black G-wagon drives off into the near-morning gloom.

And Dean, lying silent in the darkness, knows that the sound of the shower is the sound of his marriage shuffling its weary feet to its grave. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg! You crazy kids!!!! Brio baby is real.  
> Shout out to everyone who kept asking if Brio were really going to have a baby.
> 
> Tiffswonderland, EmDee8907, Outlaw, Creamsicle_sunset, ineedabadbleep, Amanda, Lea, Valentina3, Improper_dreams, Kiki83, LauraUcAcLp, Shanti3310, liquorish2003, Tria, RavenGlow, nynafrank, Anongirl, msnikkiMoneyPenny, JoeyLee 
> 
> All your lovely comments kept me writing, damn! I love you all so much.  
> Thank you. 😘😘


	26. From the Devil’s Cup, a Sip for My Tortured Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's torture this place they're in.  
> Intoxicating this feeling they feel.  
> Up and down on that rollercoaster they go.

**_From The Devil’s Cup, a Sip for My Tortured Soul_ **

**Rio:** _With a taste of your lips,_ **_I’m on a ride,_ **

_You’re toxic, I’m slipping under_

_A taste of a poison paradise_

_I’m addicted to you,_

_Don’t you know that you’re toxic?_

**Beth:** _A guy like you should wear a warning_

_It’s dangerous, I’m falling,_

_There’s no escape, I can’t wait_

_I need a hit, baby give me it_

_You’re dangerous, I’m loving it_

**Brio:** _Whiskey taste is on my breath_

_Part of me is scared to death_

_What if I told you the truth?_

_But I chase you down with 90 proof_

**_one more sip for a tortured soul_ **

_\--_

_It’s getting late to give you up,_

_I took **a sip from that devil’s cup**_

_Slowly it’s taking over me,_

_Intoxicate me now,_

_With your loving now_

_I think I’m ready now_

_\--_

**Mood Music Credit: Toxic** by **Nina Nesbitt**

 **Tortured soul** by **chord Overstreet**

For three weeks, it’s a roller coaster. They need to get off. Because it goes up and down, and twists and turns, and rattles and hurtles on and on and on and on. Sometimes they think they’re on the same one; in the same car even. 

Then the track splits and they’re heading off in different directions. Then the rails meet again, and their hands graze and they think they see the stifled scream; of fear; of excitement; of lust; of happiness; of rage; of joy on each other’s faces. But the tracks fall away from each other again and down they plunge, twist and turn again. 

And they’re thrilled, but also somewhat nauseous, somewhat breathless, somewhat tired and they just need to stop. To stop and breathe for a minute. Yes, they need to get off. 

But they don’t know how.

They need to get off. 

**چوچو**


	27. Hot and Cold in September

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fall is setting in. Some days are cold. Some days are hot.  
> And so with Rio and Elizabeth. Hot and cold they blow.

**_Hot and Cold in September_ **

**Beth:** _ Our love was strong as a lion _

_ Soft as the cotton you lie in _

_ Times we got hot like an iron _

_ Our hearts had never been broken _

_ You and I _

_ \-- _

**Rio:** _ Sometimes I think that I see her _

_ I get a mad sense of danger _

_ Feel like my heart couldn’t take it _

_ Cause if we met we’d be strangers _

_ You and I _

_ \-- _

**Brio:** _ You were my September song _

_ And I’m singing along _

_ Thinking about you and me,  _

_ Oh what a melody _

_ And I, I remember the chorus _

_ They were singing it for us _

_ And as the years go by, _

_ You will still be mine _

**Mood Music Credit: September Song** by **JP Cooper**

They’re waxing hot and cold. Hot; he’s in the car with her and maybe she looks cold without her coat on so he turns on the heated seat. She’s unexpectedly, oddly… warm. And she thinks it’s not from the seat. Cold; he takes something she feels she’s owed away. Hot; they fall into each arms again. Cold; she meets the hitman to contract Rio’s death. Hot; he’s coming up her driveway, smiling at her. “Let’s go for a drive; get you some air, mama.” except this time he means it and the Doom of Damocles is not hanging over her head. Cold; He’s telling Mick to charge her for destroying his artwork. Hot… Cold… Hot… Cold… and on and on and on. 

**_Cold_ **

Right this minute, just two days after he found out she’s pregnant, they’re cold. 

He sends her a pin. The pin is accompanied by four words. 

_ 10am tomorrow. Be there. _

She knows she will be there at 10am. Because he made it clear that she owes him; he won’t let it go. He’s not the type to let it go. This is how she starts to pay her debt to him; starts to earn his trust back. This job is her in. 

  
  


Beth calls Annie and Ruby. They’re all mad at him; Beth included. Because he’s making them do the job on a Sunday. Sunday which they should all be spending with their respective kids. 

She tells Dean he’s got the kids for the day. He’s livid when he figures out where she’s going. She calls it work. Dean evidently doesn’t agree with that definition of work. 

“Dean…” she looks at him. Something between helplessness and defiance is on her face. Helplessness; she can’t refuse to do what Rio demands. Defiance; because Dean knows she doesn’t get a choice in the jobs she does and yet he still insists on making things hard for her. Not unpredictably, Dean gives in and storms out to spend the day with the kids at Judith’s house. 

Ruby arrives first and they sit in the car waiting for Annie. She’s running late. 

“Come on…” Annie whines as she slides into the backseat of the minivan. “I wanted shotgun, Ruby.” It sets the bickering going. 

“Who calls it gets it. And  _ you _ did  _ not _ call it.” Ruby sniggers at Annie. 

“Alright. No snacks for you,” Annie says and pulls out a couple of Twinkies from a grocery bag. 

“Seriously, you’re going to deny me snacks for shotgun that you did not call?” Ruby turns around in her seat to glare at Annie. 

“I’ll trade you,” Annie wheedles. Rudy rolls her eyes and Annie huffs then passes one of the Twinkies to Beth. Beth hands it to Ruby who very smugly peels it open and starts to munch on it. 

“Beeeeeth…” Annie wails from the backseat. 

“Oooh, so good,” Ruby makes exaggerated moaning sounds. Annie huffs. 

“Come on, you guys. I really wanted shotgun.”

Beth is always torn between wanting to laugh and cry at these situations; every time. Every single time they go anywhere, Annie comes late and whines about wanting to ride shotgun. 

“Come on, Annie. You can sit in the back,” Beth says. “And it’s not too long a drive. Just a couple hours there and couple more back. Besides, you’re shorter.”

“Uh! Exaaaactly! That’s why I should get shotgun.” She says it funny and that’s when Beth and Ruby hear it for the first time. They’ve had this argument a thousand times since they were teenagers old enough to drive but this is the first time Beth and Ruby really hear what Annie said.

Ruby’s got a shit-eating grin on her face. She asks, “Say that again. What do you want again?”

“Shortgun.” Ruby’s eyes go wide in her face. She turns to Beth and Beth is glad she is still in the suburbs because she needs to slow down and choke back her laugh. Annie continues, “I keep telling you guys I’m short that’s why I need the front seat. Coz I never see anything from back here and I get so bored. Come on, you guys…” 

Ruby is laughing now; just flat out laughing and choking and clutching her sides. “Oh my God! Is that why you’ve been saying that all these years?  _ Short _ gun”

“Yeah, why?”

There’s more cackling from Ruby. Then she slowly spells it out for Annie. Literally, spells it out for Annie. 

“Oh!” Annie says. She seems abashed for a minute then she perks up again, “But my point still stands. I don’t see anything from here because…”

“Because you’re short. We get it,” chimes in Ruby. “Stop whining and divvy up the snacks.”

Beth sighs. This is going to be a long trip. Maybe on the way back Annie can have the front seat and they can stop squabbling. She pulls onto the freeway and into the sparse Sunday morning traffic. Her mind drifts idly to Rio. In some sort of way, Beth understands what he’s doing and why he is doing it. He’s keeping business separate from their…  _ whatever this thing between us is, _ Beth thinks. The  _ personal _ stuff as he’d called it. 

But in some small part of her, she feels… something. Something like irritation, something like resentment, maybe disappointment. Because she doesn’t know what she had thought would happen after he found out that she was still pregnant. And after all the… -somehow  _ sex _ feels like an inadequate word to describe what they’d done. After him telling her he was happy  _ –“so happy, mami.” _ She blushes at the memory. After him doing to her all that he had done. After him holding her different; different like the way his hand kept slipping around her waist, kept cradling her belly, kept holding his baby. Beth shivers;  _ his baby. _

She doesn’t really know what she had thought would happen. But maybe she hadn’t expected to be sent a pin and  _ instructed _ to  _ Be there. _

Maybe she’d hoped that she was just back in his good graces. She gnaws on her lip and tries to understand herself.  _ Why would I think that? Just because I’m pregnant doesn’t actually change anything between us, right? I mean, Rhea had a baby and he didn’t stick with her.  _ So what had she really expected? Hoped for? Wanted? 

She sighs.  _ This _ , she supposes.  _ This is what I should have expected.  _ Yeah, for things to change yet somehow stay the same.

Beth’s lip hurts. She keeps gnawing at it. She turns off the freeway and takes a winding country road. She thinks they’ll drive along the shore of Lake St. Clair at some point. Beth’s mouth twists. She remembers long, lazy afternoons spent sitting with Dean in their small apartment before the kids were born. They’d eat ice-cream and take-out and dream of going boating on one of the lakes one weekend. Why hadn’t they ever done that? Why hadn’t they ever done any of the things they could have done? Never really gone on a proper vacation besides their honeymoon? Never taken a weekend off and just driven down to one of the lakes and spent the afternoon walking in the sand instead of sitting in their cramped little apartment?

_ Oh, right.  _ Because they’d been saving for a house. Then they’d had enough to put a down-payment on the house and secured a mortgage from their bank. Beth remembers the feeling of accomplishment, of fulfillment, of security, of almost-happiness as they closed escrow. So why hadn’t they got away after that?  _ The bills. The mortgage. _ It had nearly sucked them dry.  _ Why couldn’t I see it though? That the lot was making more than we were spending yet we were always pinching pennies? _ It’s obvious to her now that Dean was just blowing through the money on his own.  _ How could I not see it honestly? And oh my god! How did we get to this place where we have to rob grocery stores?  _

She wants to giggle because on some days it’s just too ridiculous that they had thought robbing a grocery store would be a way out of their problems.  _ And now I owe him. And I’m pregnant with his baby. _ She shivers again. Her hand slips to her belly and she has to remind herself to get it off before Ruby notices. She should tell them, right? She should tell them. She should have told them already. 

The sun is shining on the lake in the distance. They can’t really see much of it but occasionally, they catch the glitter of the water through the trees. The leaves haven’t started to turn yet; it’s still  **early in September.**

Beth muses that the weather is a metaphor for her relationship with Rio; one day it’s balmy; the next the sunshine feels weak and there’s a chill in the breeze.  _ Just like Rio and I.  _ Fall will set in soon. Then the leaves will fall and the trees will get naked for the winter;  _ How does that translate with Rio and I? _ She shivers and lifts her collar higher; she's suddenly cold despite the warm weather.

Beth wonders if Dean had made it down to the lakes with one of his women. Somehow, she thinks yes. She’d be willing to bet good money on it. 

There’s a good view of the water before the road winds away from the lake and into a wooded area. Something about the sight of that water sparks a sudden recollection. Beth had once found a pair of Dean’s swimming trunks wet in a bag. The bag he had carried with him to a car expo in town that weekend. He’d said he’d gone swimming in the hotel pool. But the trunks hadn’t smelt of chlorine. They had been musty; she had said as much and wrinkled her nose as she had thrown them into the washing machine. Yeah, now she thinks she understands; he’d probably been out on one of the lakes with his then-mistress.  _ How could I have been so stupid? Is that how Dean sees me; as just some stupid, stupid housewife to cook and clean and have his kids and be left in the house watching the kids while he goes on weekend trysts with his mistresses? _

Beth scoffs at herself. Then her lip curls in disdain again.  _ Not anymore, Dean. _ She doesn’t mean to go on a power trip about it. The thought just occurs. Now he’s the one watching the kids while I…  _ while I what? _ The question is loud in her head. The answer a reluctant murmur in her mind,  _ while I cater to Rio’s demands. _ It’s an odd thought. Beth thinks it should fill her with revulsion but somehow it doesn’t. 

It doesn’t. And Beth really, really thinks it should. She should have nothing but scorn for herself, right? So why can’t she? Why does she have this breathless sense of exhilaration? This tingle in her skin? Why does she feel so… she wants to say,  _ alive. _

She tries to find the irritation she had felt inside her when she got his message. But she can’t quite seem to reach it. She tells herself to separate business from the personal stuff. 

“It’s just business, darling,” Rio would say. But it’s not. Not anymore.

“Stop kicking the seat.” 

“I will, if you just let me switch seats on the way back. Come on, Rubes. Come on. I get so sick of it.” 

“God, Annie. Will you let it go already? Are those Pringles?” Ruby reaches for them over her shoulder. Annie protests but she shares anyway. 

Suddenly Beth is starving. Starving and not for Pringles.  _ Cater to Rio’s demands. Starving for… Rio? _

“Annie… Gimme some nuts, Annie,” Beth requests.

Annie scoffs, “Who buys nuts for a road-trip?”

“Come on. You know I like nuts.”

“No, you don’t; what are you even saying? Have a Twinkie.”

“Is that all you brought? Twinkies and Pringles?”

“That’s what I like,” Annie shrugs. 

“What about what we like?” Ruby asks.

Annie snorts, “You mean the stuff you should have brought but didn’t.” Ruby rolls her eyes. The bickering continues.

“Okay, do you at least have chocolate?” Beth asks. She really needs a snack that will satisfy her craving; any of her cravings. What she really wants is  _ him _ but if she can’t have that… well, she’ll settle for a pack of nuts. If she can’t have  _ that _ , she’ll take some chocolate. Annie rummages about in her handbag. And pulls out a half-eaten bar of chocolate. Beth grimaces but takes it anyway. 

“Why are we stopping?” Annie asks? “Are we there?”

“The ducks,” Ruby answers. 

“Ducks? Where? Ducks?” Annie cranes her neck. “I can’t see,” she whines. “Come on, you guys. I told you I see nothing back here. Rubyyyy! Switch with me. I can’t even see them.” She winds her window down and sticks her head all the way out. 

“Aaaaw, that’s a cute duck,” she says when she spots one. It disappears into the brush by the roadside. Ruby rubs her nose in it. 

“They  _ were _ . They were some really cute  _ ducks _ . Giiirl, did you see just the one?”

“Ugh!” Annie flounces back into her seat. Beth tunes out the arguing and keeps driving. She’s got a strange feeling; trepidation. Anxiety. But also  _ Anticipation _ .  _ Happiness-in-waiting. _ Because whatever it is that Rio has sent her to deliver, she’ll do it and then they’ll be good… 

She tries not to think of Lucy. Tries not to think of Max and his cousin; his cousin the hitman. The hitman, the professional they said they’d get once Rio pays them. To kill Rio. Beth’s mind starts to scream;  _ that was  _ **_before_ ** _. _ The question is loud in her head;  _ Before what?  _ So what if she is pregnant? So what if he’s happy about it?  _ It doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t bring back Lucy. Doesn’t release any of us from our debts to him. _ He has to be the one to die before he kills anyone else.  _ I have to put out a hit on him,  _ Beth thinks. She shudders.  _ His baby. His baby is in me. And he’s happy. And I’m happy he’s happy. _ She swallows hard and keeps driving.

“You guys remember Drug-beth.”

“Oh, Annie… No…” Ruby grimaces at Annie. She mouths,  _ Stop it. Not in front of Beth. _

Beth watches the pantomime out of the corner of her eye and rolls her eyes. Drug-beth? What about her?

“No seriously, what happened to her, you guys? You think she’s still with Gangfriend?” Suddenly Beth doesn’t want to hear what’s coming. She inhales, holds her breath. 

“Annie, stop. Just stop…” Ruby implores.

“What? Come on, man. What does Beth care? It’s not like she’s boning him.” Annie makes a gesture of bewilderment. Beth wants to tell them. She wants to stop the car and tell them. Yes, she cares. Yes, she’s boning him. Yes, she very much cares because she’s boned him a few times in the last two months. And once more before she shot him that they don’t know about.  _ After _ finding out about Drug-beth. It’s the thing that ruined them; the fact that she hit it and tried to quit it. And he wanted to punish her for quitting their partnership. And  _ him _ . Then she shot him.

Yes, she cares. Because she let him hit it in her bed that time and it was so, so good. And he put a baby in her. She’s pregnant. More than four months pregnant; and why can’t they see it? Do not even her best friend and sister see her? Is Rio the only one who really sees her? Yes, yes. I’m boning him. 

And  _ oh, Jesus! I’m in love with him so please don’t talk about Drug-beth. I’m in love with him. Always was. Never stopped. Even when I shot him. Even when he killed Lucy in front of us. And now I’m boning him again. And it’s so, so, so good, Ruby. It really is.  _

“Beth, tell Ruby you don’t care.” 

_ What if I’m still a side-piece; _ the thought crosses Beth’s mind. And suddenly she can’t not care. And she can’t shake it; the memory. The image of him getting out of his car, out of his Cadillac and getting the door for Drug-beth. Getting the door;  _ like he never does for me. _

**_His Cadillac;_ ** the one against which he’d been leaning when she, Beth, walked up to him in the night and cried under her stolen STOP sign and he’d straightened and told her he’d teach her to handle a gun and not be afraid of using one; and somehow made her feel less afraid of all her other fears. Then he pushed her hair out of her face. 

**_Pushed her hair out of her face;_** _Does he push Drug-beth’s hair out of her face too?_ Beth thinks of Drug-beth’s mass of beautiful black curly hair falling around her face. Does he push that hair out of Drug-beth’s face? Out of some other woman’s face? Does he do it to other women? Beth can hardly see the road. She eases her foot off the gas. All she can see is him. 

**_Him;_ ** him wrapping his arms around Drug-beth; pulling Drug-beth closer; putting Drug-beth in the car that Beth had just delivered, leaning in for a kiss, putting his face in Drug-beth’s neck like he wanted to breathe in the scent of Drug-beth’s hair.

**_Drug-beth’s hair;_** what does it smell of? Something sweet? Does Rio like it? Is he a sucker for Drug-beth’s hair-lotion? _Does he bury his face in her neck when he hits it like he does in mine? Does it make him happy?_

**_Happy;_ ** he had seemed happy that day. Rio had seemed happy as he walked back to his car after putting Drug-beth in the car Beth had delivered.  _ Was he happy when he was with her like he told me he’s happy when he found out I’m still pregnant? Does he tell Drug-beth he’s happy? Then? Maybe even now?  _

“I mean… it was a fuck and chuck for you too, Beth, right?” 

Annie doesn’t wait for a response, just plows right on, “… a hit and run… a road gig… a toot it and boot it… a… a…” She falters and frowns then continues, “Oooh, a smash and dash… a meet and greet… a meet and bone… a shag and bag… a railing and bailing…”

“Oh, God! Never ever say that again.” Ruby tells her.

“A loot and scoot… a hit it and quit it,” Annie says quickly, dusts her hands off then holds her hands palm out, “Aaaand I’m done.” She looks rather proud of herself. 

Ruby fakes a shudder. “Ew.”

_ What if I’m just going to be pushed off to the side like Rhea? Even though Rhea’s break-up with him was apparently her choice… What if I’m just his side-piece? Or just another baby-mama? _ She has another memory. Of Rio holding a gun under her chin when she took all his drugs out of the airbags of the cars he was running through her lot. “Oh, you think you’re special, huh? You ain’t nothing; I don’t need you.” Rio had said.

_ “I don’t need you.” _ The thought recurs. She’s feeling more in touch with her irritation now. 

_ “You ain’t nothing. I don’t need you.”  _ Beth has yet another memory of Rio saying more of those words to her. She had thrown keys at his face and Rio had walked right up to her and very quietly told her, “What you and me had is done. Over.”

“You can’t just fire us,” She had protested.

“You think I need you? You ain’t nothing but a damn charity case to me,” Rio had yelled at her. 

_“You think I need you? You ain’t nothing but a damn charity case to me..._ _You ain’t nothing; I don’t need you.”_ Beth tries to clear her head. Tries to see the road. Tries to bite down on the feeling of insecurity rising up in her chest and making her stomach twist. Why is she suddenly worried about things she hasn’t thought about in forever. _Annie! Annie and the things she says,_ Beth thinks to herself. _Please stop talking about Drug-beth._

She wants to say she’s managed to reach her irritation now; but the truth is more that it’s her irritation which has taken a firm hold of her. Yes, Beth recognizes those feelings; anger, jealousy. She hates that Rio can make her feel them so intensely; the jealousy and the anger. 

Beth’s lip curls in self-contempt; self-contempt for being jealous. For caring what he feels for Drug-beth. She shakes her head again to clear it.

“Why would she care? Do you care?” Annie won’t let it go. Beth thinks Ruby misreads her head shake and expression as disdain for the idea that Beth would care at all about Drug-beth. Then Beth has to grin and bear it while Annie and Ruby discuss Drug-beth and Rio. 

“Do you think she’s still out there delivering drugs or whatever for him?” 

Ruby snorts, “ _ We _ are still here, aren’t we? Doing that man’s dirty business.”

“Do you think his baby mama knows about her?” 

Beth wishes for the ground to just open up and swallow her. Because, yes.  **_This_ ** _ baby mama knows;  _ **_I_ ** _ know. Rhea? No. Rhea knows nothing about it. But what do I know either? For all I know, he’s with Drug-beth right now. _

She hates how much she cares. She tries to shove those feelings aside. But she can’t shake the memory of him holding Drug-beth.  _ He’s got a type _ , she realizes suddenly. Lithe, dark-haired women. Like Drug-beth. Like Rhea. Like the woman he’d described when he had kissed ice-cream off Beth and made her beg for him in her; demanded she confess her jealousy to him. 

_ I’m not his type. _ She doesn’t know what to feel about that.  _ Is that worse? How soon before he tires of me and wants someone who’s his type? Is that better somehow? Am I different somehow, special? _

But she recalls his voice, furious in her backyard,  _ “I think this thing between us has run its course… Oh, you think you’re special, huh? I don’t need you.” _

_ “You think I need you? You ain’t nothing but a damn charity case to me.” _

_ “You ain’t nothing; I don’t need you.” _

She’s feeling so cold. She rolls up her window.

Beth tries to talk herself down. To tell herself not to complicate things. To just do the job she came to do and that would be enough. She knows why she has to do it after all; she’d shot him and betrayed his trust. She thinks that’s not entirely accurate either; she knows she broke his trust long before she shot him. She broke his trust in the worst way when she got him to let down his guard in her bed and then kicked him out of it.

She remembers he’d just started to talk business to her. He’d been happy and relaxed and comfortable enough with her to want to talk business with her while he was still naked. She feels a twinge of regret. She wonders how much of the world could they have taken on and conquered together; wonders if they would have worked out the details of their next deal then fallen back in bed one more time for good measure; wonders what would have happened if she had invited him to join her in the shower.  _ We were so good together,  _ she thinks. 

She inhales a long breath and exhales.  _ Oh Jesus! _ Ruby and Annie are still talking about Drug-beth.

Beth drags up a memory; she remembers coming home to Dean and telling him to take off his pants when all she really wanted was the feel of Rio inside her again. She’d done it because she’d been jealous.

Jealous and angry about Drug-beth.

Jealous and angry and wanting him; wanting  _ Rio _ .

Jealous and angry and wanting him and unable to tell him. 

Jealous and angry and wanting him and knowing she wasn’t quite ready to let him go.

Jealous and angry and wanting him and desperate; for him to want her. Only her. Even if she had to destroy them both to get that.

Jealous and angry and wanting him, bitterly crashing one of his cars then taking every last pill from his shipment so that she could hit him in the one place she  _ knew _ would hurt; his pocket. 

He’d been angry too; his tone of voice accusing when he said, “Where is it? I think this thing between us has run its course… Oh, you think you’re special, huh?... I don’t need you.”

And though she’d been smug on the outside, there had been nothing but jealousy and anger and want and desperation and bitterness and possessiveness inside her when the truth inadvertently leaked out, “I trusted you” followed by the thing she so desperately needed to be true, “You need me.”

And she would be damned if he was going to make money off her back. She would be damned if she was going to let him use her after he had hit in that bathroom. She would be damned if she was going to let him treat her like she wasn’t special and then have him go about with Drug-beth  _ -goddamn, drug-beth- _ hugging on her and loving it up with her and probably sleeping with her and making money with her off Beth’s back. Yeah, Beth would be damned.

So she had been cold and demanded her just due and taken 50% of his profits and taken joy in sticking the knife in him and twisting, “I would have taken 40.” 

She had ignored him when he said she looked good behind her desk; that she'd look better on top of it. But for a moment she had been afraid of herself; afraid of what she wanted to say instead, “Yes. Yes, I’d look so good on top of my desk with you.” Afraid that he’d then drag her onto it and she would let him hit it again and it would be so good again then where would they be? Afraid that he mightn’t drag her onto it and she would want to throw something because she would  _ still _ want him to hit it again. 

Instead she’d gone home and tried to soothe her roiling emotions and her hungry, aching cunt to the memory of his words and the way he’d bitten his lip;  _ for her _ . So she bent over the kitchen sink for Dean exactly like she’d bent over the bathroom sink for Rio; lifted up her dress for Dean exactly like she’d lifted up another dress for Rio and she’d told Dean what she hadn’t needed to tell Rio, “Do it. Just do it. Hurry up. Do it. Just do it.”

It hadn’t satisfied. 

And now she is jealous again because God knows what he is doing right now and with whom. She hates it. She hates herself.  _ But like, what is he doing right now? _

Had she known, she would have been gratified. 

Their destination is coming up in 3 minutes. 


	28. Coming in Hot!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rio shoots his shot.
> 
> Shoot it, shoot that shot! Ay, why not?

**_Coming in Hot_ **

_I don’t do the most but I do a lot_

_I’ma make a toast ‘cause we still alive_

_No Big, I feel like Pac_

_I’m coming in hot_

_I’m nice with the flow_

_Just like the demeanour_

_I’m feeding my fam_

_I’m coming in hot_

_I shoot the shot (brap, brap, brap)_

_I’m coming in hot! (hot, hot hot)_

___

_Coming in!_

_Shoot that!_

_Shoot that shot!_

_Shoot, why not?_

_Ay, why not?_

_I’m coming in…_ **_Hot!_ **

**Mood Music Credit: Coming in hot** by **Andy Mineo** and **Lecrae**

He’s doing what he wouldn’t normally be doing on a Sunday. On Sundays, Rio’d usually be spending Time with Marcus. If it’s his weekend with Marcus, they’d be out somewhere; maybe going to the movies or bowling or playing tennis at the club.

If it’s Rhea’s weekend with Marcus, he’d still be stealing Time to spend with Marcus. He’d drive them wherever they wanted to go for the day and leave so Rhea and Marcus could spend the day together. Or he’d show up and kick a ball around with Marcus in the backyard while Rhea made them snacks and watched them from the kitchen window.

Then he’d go in and hug her and be glad she’s Marcus’ mum and that she lets him see Marcus whenever he can. Yes, he knows. He’s got a sweet deal with Rhea.

But it wasn’t always like this; there was a Time they would fight like wildcats over every little thing. Then kiss and make up. Then fight again. Then kiss and almost make-up. Then fight again and not make up. Then fight again and fight again until they were spending so much Time fighting that there was no Time left for making up. 

Then the cold silences started. The long nights away from home; spent at the bar trying not to tell Mick that his relationship with Rhea was falling to pieces and he felt like he was losing himself. He knows Mick had known anyway. So Rio had thrown himself into the business and lost himself in the business and somehow found himself in the business. Found that he could be without Rhea. And that it didn’t hurt anymore.

Until she told him she was pregnant. And that she didn’t want anything from him. She just wanted out. Then it hurt like a bitch. Because he knew he could live without Rhea but not without the baby inside her. But she just wanted out. And she got out. So he got out too.

Until Marcus was born. And he’d put his foot down and demanded that Rhea let him be in Marcus’ life. He’d threatened to get Zorada involved; Rhea knew that Gretchen was an animal when she went to bat for Rio. But Rhea had only scoffed at him and slammed the door in his face. _“What kind of dad would you be when you never come home and when you do, you’re all covered in bruises? Do you think that’s what I want; for Marcus to grow up seeing that?”_

He’d stormed off, raging and drank his way to the bottom of a bottle of vodka with Mick. Mick who then more or less repeated the same words to him; _“See how we turned out, Rio. I know you don’t want this for your kid. I know you want better. So you gotta do better. You gotta clean up your act. You gotta keep this life far away from your little man.”_

And he’d felt stupid and small and guilty but Mick had poured him another drink and told him not to worry. _“Things will work out in the end.”_ So a couple days later he showed up at Rhea’s door and told her she could have anything she fuckin’ wanted as long as she let him see Marcus. She only wanted one thing; Marcus to never see any of the business. 

Then just like that, he _really_ had a son. And he _really_ was a dad. And he had a baby-mama. 

چوچو

And now he’s really having another baby. And he’s really going to be a dad all over again. And he has a baby-mama. Another one. And he knows he’s making her life hard. And now it’s making him feel stupid and small and guilty again. Because he knows he’s going to keep making it hard; to keep taking until she pays off her debt to him. To keep punishing her for every Time she screws him over. 

And he knows he will never stop holding her feet to the fire. Because she will never stop screwing him over. And maybe sometimes he just wants to go back to how things used to be. The way things used to be before she kicked him out of her bed and out of her life that first Time and he lost his shit. Lost his shit because he knew he didn’t want to be without _her_ . He _couldn’t_ be without _her_ . He didn’t want to lose _her_ . Even though she wasn’t his to keep. She didn’t belong with him. But he _couldn’t_ be without her. _Couldn’t lose her._

So he fucked up and took malicious pride in calling her work, hurting her, blackmailing her, threatening her, kidnapping her. _Malicious pride?_ Rio wants to say malicious _joy._ But there’d been no joy. No happiness in it. Just jealousy and rage and unsatisfied, unsatisfiable, never-ending need for her. _For her._

And then she shot him. She took his gun and put three slugs right in his fuckin’ chest and that hurt but he knew he could survive it. Then she left him… drowning in his blood, she fuckin’ left him. And that hurt like a bitch. Hurt so bad he thought he’d die from it. Hurt so bad that he almost couldn’t breathe from it. Not from the blood gurgling in his throat but from the sight of her naked feet walking away and fuckin’ leaving him. Again.

And he’s spent every day since he got back playing those moments back in his mind; like little reels of tape on an endless loop. 

**_Play reel;_ ** he sees himself hand her the gun. They yell at each other. He tells her to put on her big-girl panties and finish Turner. She won’t do it. He tells he sold her out to the fed. _“He even knows what makes your garden grow… Cockle shells, silver bells. Bodies all in a row.”_ He’d grin at her; mocking her. Pushing her to do it. To end Turner. To come to the dark side. _With him._ Trying to exorcise that demon that wouldn’t leave him alone; that kept coming back like an evil surprise; that wouldn’t let him fuckin’ sleep.

**_Pause reel._ **

**_Switch reel._ **

**_Play reel;_ **

The demon that wouldn’t let him sleep; her kicking him out of her bed when he had been happy;

 _happy and_ flooded with endorphins,

 _happy and_ tangled in her sheets,

 _happy and_ glorying in the soft cries she’d made for him,

 _happy and_ wrapped up in the scent of her; _cherry blossom._

_Fuckin’ cherry blossom._

That demon that looks like the memory of her; the memory of her saying those words, her putting his cut on the nightstand, her walking away from him. _“I’m done. It’s over._

**_Pause reel._ **

**_Switch reel._ **

**_Rewind reel;_ **

**_Play reel;_ **

He’s watching himself again; pushing her with his words and yelling at her and calling her a bitch when she wouldn’t choose him. _Choose me. Choose_ ** _me._** _Want_ ** _me._** _Need_ ** _me._** _Love_ ** _me._** That endless jealousy in his chest. That impotent rage in his heart. That unsatisfied, unsatisfiable never-ending need in _him._ All of him. His whole fuckin’ body aching with it. 

He tells her to put on her big-girl panties. To end Turner. But she shoots _him_ , Rio, instead. And fuckin’ walks away. Walks away and fuckin’ leaves him on the floor. Chooses Turner. Chooses her bland little life. Chooses her husband. Her dumbass husband. _Chooses fuckin’ carman_ over him, Rio. 

**_Stop reel. Play reel. Pause reel. Switch reel. Rewind reel. Play reel. Stop reel. Play reel…_ ** and on and on and on forever. Even now.

**_Even now;_ ** Rio thinks, _After all that, I still fuckin’ lost her. Why did you leave me, mama? You couldn’t just choose me, could you, Elizabeth?_

And she’s still doing it. _Even with my baby inside her she’s still choosing everything and everyone but me._ Except now every day, he puts on his big-boy pants –the ones he couldn’t put on when she kicked him out- and tries not to lose himself or her. Not lose himself or her any more than he already has. 

And still his demons -his jealousy and rage and need- sit inside of him; like unwelcome guests who just don’t know when to call it a night and go to their fuckin’ homes. 

But maybe now their presence doesn’t grate as much as it did before and maybe sometimes Rio almost forgets they’re there, almost forgets to see them. Because on some days, she looks at him and all he sees are her big, beautiful, blue eyes and there’s something in those eyes looking up at him; something unexpected; something hungry…naked…and needy… _for him_. 

And just for a moment, all the demons are vanquished, crushed under the look in her eye and he thinks he remembers. Remembers looking in her eyes while she cried out his name, looking in her eyes while the afternoon sunshine made a halo of her hair and seeing that same exact look. Except now he thinks it’s deeper. More. More hungry… more naked… more needy… More. _For him._

And sometimes if he keeps on looking, he feels himself fall into those eyes and then he wants to look away but he can’t. Because he thinks he sees something that he has never seen in anyone’s eyes before; something like pain and something like relief. Something like hurt and something like almost-joy. Something like almost-hate. Something like almost-love. Something like everything in between. 

And it makes him fuckin’ afraid because in his chest, his heart beats and beats… _for her. For her and the baby inside of her._ And it makes him shiver. 

  
  


چوچو

And now he would usually be kicking a ball around with Marcus or playing catch but he’s clearing his and Mick’s breakfast plates from the bar in his kitchen and telling Mick to get this job done. Get it done for Elizabeth. _My baby mama. Another one. Fuck! Goddammit, Elizabeth. I think I need you, mama._

Rio folds the sheet of paper in half and hands it to Mick. On the outside of it he has scrawled her name; 

ELIZABETH

He has considered putting it in an envelope but decided against it. Yeah… _Nah._ He’s not sealing this one up. So much the better if her dumbass husband sees it – _fuckin carman_ . _Mmmmm,_ he hums to himself. He has that familiar malicious glee he gets every Time he sticks it to _carman._ He gives Mick clear instructions on where to leave it. 

Mick’s brow furrows. 

“We gon’do this again?” Rio asks him.

“Nah, man… Just that…” Mick falters. “Come on, man. Really?”

Rio sighs and nods. “Aight. So we really gon’do it again.” For a moment, something like anxiety starts to cross Mick’s face and he lifts his hand to his face. He stops before he touches his beard. Then he grins. 

“It’s me and you, man. About _her_. We always gon’ do this. ‘Cause maaan… you make me do some crazy shi…,” Mick laughs. 

Rio sighs in exaggerated exasperation but then smiles and says, “Aight. Bring it, Mick.”

“You’re really gon’ make me do this the exact way you just said?” Mick is still smiling when he says it. Rio looks silently back at him but the corner of his mouth lifts in a tiny quirk. 

Mick continues, “So what if the husband sees it?” 

“Yeah… so what if the husband sees it?” Rio repeats and shrugs. “So what, Mick.” 

Mick shakes his head at Rio and winces. “Oooof! It’s like that, huh? Damn, what’d he ever do to you?”

Rio’s face furrows at that. He wants to tell Mick, _he’s got the only thing I want. He’s got what’s mine. And I fuckin’ want it. He’s got her; and he doesn’t deserve her and she’s too fuckin’ good for him and he doesn’t even see her and I want her. And she’s fuckin’ mine but she’s still up in that house with that…_ He’s mad just thinking about it. _And my baby is inside her. Fuck! My baby is inside her._ His annoyance dissipates. _Why does that make me so fuckin’ happy? She’s having my baby._

Rio doesn’t know why he doesn’t tell Mick. Later, he thinks it’s because he told Mick the last Time and then Elizabeth said she wasn’t keeping it and it sort of broke him and he knows Mick saw it break him. And now he just wants… he just wants… _What?_ The question is loud in his mind. The answer an uncertain whisper; _to be sure._ He doesn’t know what about. But he needs to be sure before he tells Mick again.

Mick is watching Rio’s face and he can almost see Rio’s thoughts on his face; almost as clear as if they were written on the paper in his hand. _She’s yours, huh?_ Mick thinks. Out loud he says, “I guess that’s the point then, huh?” 

“Go on, Mick. Get it done, yeah? Take Dags and Cisco with you.”

“And if he’s home?” 

Rio lifts both hands. It’s a question in a shrug. “And if he’s home, Mick?” 

Mick winces; he’s thinking of the husband’s reaction. _Fuck! That’s cold, Rio._ Then Rio says something that throws Mick for a loop.

“It’s for her, yeah. So you get it done today, Mick. She needs it, aight. Can’t have her hurting ‘cause I took it from her.” 

Mick stops in his tracks. Stares at Rio. Because _What?! Wasn’t that the whole point of cleaning her out in the first place? To have her hurting?_ But apparently not. This one thing has to go back today. Now he really wants to know what Mrs. B said two nights ago. Because Mick came into the bar on Friday night and Ricky told him that he’d missed Rio by a few minutes. But Mick had seen the G-wagon drive off as he stepped out of his car and he had thought he caught a glimpse of _her_ golden hair in the car with Rio. 

So Mick had unthinkingly asked Ricky, “Mrs. B was in here with him?” And Ricky had nodded and poured Mick’s drink and gone off to fill more orders. But if he had taken a look at Mick, Ricky would have seen Mick raise his glass in a small salute and mutter, “Good on you, Rio. About Time too.” And Mick had sat by himself on the stool at the bar that Rio had just vacated and had his drink. He had rested his foot on one of the two empty stools next to him and thought; _Mrs. B’s seat. It’s crazy how nobody even asks to take these three seats anymore._

“It’s done, Rio.” Mick starts to walk out. But he falters and turns back to Rio.

Again, he is grinning when he says, “Nah! I ain’t letting you off the hook that easy.”

Rio rolls his eyes. “What now?”

“So I guess it’s personal then, huh?” Mick grins but there’s something serious in his eyes. And he’s holding Rio’s gaze when he asks it. Rio stares back at him; stares long and hard. Mick is unmoved. Completely and utterly unimpressed. Rio is starting to think his stare-down needs some work. Maybe he needs to practice it in front of a mirror. He almost grins at the ridiculousness of the thought. 

“Don’t you have some place to be? ‘Cause I could have sworn...”

Mick cuts him off with a wave of his hand in a let’s-speed-this-along fashion. “Best get talking then so I can get on with it, yeah?”

Rio rolls a shoulder, rubs his eyes with his hand, drags it down to his face but then smiles back at Mick, “What do you wanna hear, Mick?”

“Maybe the fuckin’ truth out your mouth for once? Coz this sure don’t feel like business.” He makes a sniggering sound and laughs at Rio. 

“Fuckin’ hell, Mick. You’ll just never let it rest, will you?” Rio huffs out a rueful sound that has a hint of amusement in it. “Goddammit, Mick. You’re the worst fuckin’ bro a guy could want.”

“So…?” Mick .

“So what, Mick?” he knows he’s dodging Mick’s questions. It’s just that he’s torn. Torn about wanting to tell Mick. Torn between wanting to tell Mick to fuck right off or to tell Mick about the strange way his heart’s been pounding since he figured out Elizabeth is still pregnant.

“So… let me spell it out for you. This shit you got me doing…” Mick waves the folded note at Rio. “…this ain’t business. This is personal. Aight?”

Rio gives up. Why argue with Mick. Why argue against the truth. “Yeah, okay… fine. So maybe it’s a bit of both. So sue me.” Mick laughs; that deep, full-throated laugh of his. It’s nice. It’s infectious. Rio grins and shakes his head. 

“First of… I’mma leave the suing to Zorada. Second… a bit of both, huh?” he chuckles. It turns into that laugh again. “Sure, let’s call it “both” if that helps you sleep at night.” He makes air-quotes when he says the word _both_.

Mick walks out to the sound of Rio’s muttered, tongue-in-cheek curses, “Fuck off, Mick. Go fuckin’ do your job. The worst…” 

Mick laughs and has the satisfaction of getting the last word in, “You, my man, are fucked!” 

The door slams behind Mick. And Rio’s face goes serious for a moment, _I’m fucked._ He rubs his chest; he can feel the scars on his skin. One is more puckered than the rest; the newest one. The one from the night Elizabeth stabbed him in her kitchen. He shivers when he thinks of that dagger; he knows where she keeps it. In the drawer on the left side of the kitchen island. 

Rio had told Mick to put it back; not to take it when he cleaned out her house; to leave it and the rose-gold gun he, Rio, gave her that night she tried to kill him in her kitchen. The night he nearly killed her back. The night his hands betrayed him and wouldn’t fuckin’ let him kill her. The night the goddamn gun wouldn’t fire. _Christ! Goddamn, Elizabeth! Always trying to kill me; always starting some shi… I could have killed you and the baby, mama!! Goddamn you, Elizabeth!_ He hopes she’s done with that now. _We’re better now, mama. We’re working things out. And if you do the job today, we’ll be all good again. We’ll be all good, darling._

_“You, my man, are fucked!”_ Mick’s words echo in Rio’s mind.

 _I’m fucked. I really am. Christ! But she’s having my baby. Damn, mama, you’re having my baby._ He starts loading the dishwasher. He grins. _My baby._ He glances at the clock. _I should call Marcus before lunch._

چوچو

Mick walks out into the sunshine. “A bit of both. You wouldn’t know personal if it smacked you in the face, Rio.” he chuckles. Then he frowns, _It’s personal, for sure. But there’s her funny-money business in the mix too. Oh, fuck! It really_ **_is_ ** _both. It’s on again. We’re back on the fuckin’ rollercoaster. Here we fuckin’ go again!_

He calls Dags and they head over to the storage unit.

_Momma told me don’t get tattoos_

_Don’t live fast if you don’t have to_

_But I had to_

_I was sober when I met you_

_And that’s why I can’t forget you_

_\--_

_I wanna know you_

_I wanna show you_

_The parts of my broken heart_

_I’ve got way too many scars and tattoos_

_Way too many scars_

_\--_

**Mood Music Credit: Scars and tattoos** by **Gavin Haley**


	29. The Cracks in Her Moral Code

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth and Mick both do a job. 
> 
> Elizabeth comes to the realization that Her Moral Code might be a bit broken: she can see the cracks in it.
> 
> Because she'll do the job that Rio told her to do: she just wants back in.

**_The Cracks In Her Moral Code// Kill for You_ **

**Beth:** _ Oh lord forgive my weary hands,  _

_ For what they may do _

_ I’ll carry out his evil plans,  _

_ If he wants me to _

**Rio:** _ Your behavior is altered _

_ Ain’t your fault ‘cause I made you, _

_ Brainwash and persuade you _

**Brio:** _ Baby, I’d kill for you _

**Mood Music Credit: Kill for you** by **Skylar Grey** and **Eminem**

It’s a cabbage field. An honest-to-god, literal cabbage field. And that makes no sense because what on earth are they doing in a cabbage field in the middle of rural Detroit?

They all know they’re not going to like what they have to do. Rio wouldn’t have given them anything pleasant to do; see, because this is punishment. Ruby and Annie squabble over what it could be that they have to pick up and how Rio is having it delivered there.

“I mean, that’s what it has to be; because we’ve already delivered his drugs, his money, his bodies…”

She even boned him for God’s sake.” Annie sounds absolutely disgusted. 

Ruby has a flashback to that day they saw Rio and Drug-beth; she remembers Annie saying she couldn’t stand to watch Beth and Rio together because Beth was presenting like a baboon. The mental image that Annie’s words had called up then recurs.  _ A flared… Ooooh, no. Jesus!  _ Ruby shudders and grimaces. She does not need that thought in her mind today… or ever again for that matter.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Beth protests indignantly. Yes… okay. She can admit to herself from where her outrage is coming; her guilty conscience from the fact that she’s  _ boning _ him again.  _ Jesus!  _ She’s having his baby. And she’s not told Annie or Ruby. They’re going to kill her when they find out.  _ Oh, God! I’m having his baby;  _ her nipples are sensitive pebbles in her lace bra. 

Oh, and yes, she hates how she’s taken to buying her underwear with him taking it off in mind. She hates it. But something about the way his lips part, his eyes hood over and he looks like he could just eat  _ her _ with a little spoon when he takes off her clothes and sees her nipples showing through the lace makes  _ her _ want to eat  _ him _ with a little spoon. 

Oh, Right. Annie and Ruby. 

“And if he’s trying to punish us, which he most certainly is what is the one thing we are all against?”

Annie guesses micro-plastics in the ocean then the Rohingya crisis in Myanmar. Beth would laugh on any other day. Ruby looks as though she could just throttle Annie. 

“Okay, why did we march downtown for three hours in the rain last year?” Ruby thinks she’s helping by giving Annie a clue.

“With the vagina hats on?”

“That was for women, Annie. We are not against women.” Now  _ Beth  _ could just throttle Annie. 

Eventually they agree; they’ve delivered bodies, drugs, money so guns it is. It must be guns that they’re meant to pick up. 

“Oh my God! Now you’re Gun-Beth,” Annie sputters. She sounds outraged. “Like is it never going to be enough? What are you going to be next?”

Beth is thinking,  _ Gun-Beth. Yes, that sounds about right. And Counterfeit-Beth. _ Annie chimes in with, “Funny-money-Beth.” 

Beth wants to giggle. “Funny-money-Beth; yeah, we do make it rain, don’t we?” It’s weird how she still has a sense of pride about that. But the funny-money is their thing, isn’t it?  _ We are damn good at making it.  _

_ Oh, and  _ **_I’m_ ** _ the real Drug-Beth. And Car-Beth. And baby-mama Beth… Jesus! _ She should tell them. She really should tell Annie and Ruby. But this somehow feels like the wrong time.  _ There’ll never be a right time. _ She has to tell Dean. She has to tell Dean quick before he sees it for himself. 

“Listen, it doesn’t matter what it is; if we want to get rid of him, we’re going to do it,” Annie says. 

Beth swallows hard; she feels a bit nauseous, breathless. She really should tell them. She just doesn’t know how to start. Because they’re not going to understand. It was such a big deal when Annie thought she had slept with him once. But now she’s been sneaking around with him even after they told her it was a bad idea and they’re back at it again even after he killed Lucy. 

And now it’s even worse because she’s having his baby and she’s somewhat more than four months pregnant and she hasn’t told them. And maybe Beth is a coward but she is not quite ready to be judged and shamed for it and she’s not ready to deal with the fall-out from that admission. Not today. Not today when they’ll be stuck in the car with each other for two hours afterward. Just… not today.

A call comes in on her phone; the service is terrible. Honestly, she’s surprised she even has the one bar of network. She presses her phone to her ear; Annie and Ruby are arguing over how the guns will be delivered. She thinks she hears something about a convoy, helicopters, drones… and  _ what? Did Annie just suggest the commercial plane above them is going to crash-land in this cabbage field? What?  _

“Beth, dear? Beth…?”

“Mrs. Kapinski? Yeah…I can hear you. What’s wrong?”

“Dear, there are some men taking furniture out of your house…” Mrs. Kapinski pauses and seems to be listening to someone before she continues, “or maybe they’re putting it in, I don’t know which.”

“Oh?” Beth knows there’s no furniture in her house so obviously, Rio’s boys must be putting some back in. 

“Um… did they say which furniture it is?”

“They say they’ve got your bed and…”

_ Huh? Why would Rio do that? _ She wonders.  _ I still haven’t delivered his guns or whatever to him. Guess he’s just  _ **_that_ ** _ certain that we’ll make the delivery. _ Beth doesn’t know what to think about that. She’s about to tell Mrs. Kapinski to let them finish the job when Mrs. Kapinski breaks off with a squeal, “Oh, Michael!! How are you, dear? Are you the one supervising them putting the bed in?”

Beth thinks she hears the rumble of a man’s voice then Mrs. Kapinski continues, “Oh, why didn’t they just say that? Those silly men.”

Now Beth thinks she hears Mick’s voice. Michael is  _ Mick _ ? Mick is  _ Michael _ ? She snorts.

“Oh, Michael wants to speak to you, dear.” Then the sounds on the other end become distant as though someone finally covered the mouthpiece with their hand. Then Mrs. Kapinski’s voice comes over the phone, sounding muffled, “I’ll just go in and get you some lemonade, Michael. Oh, nonsense dear. It’s no trouble at all.”

Beth rolls her eyes and sniggers,  _ Give it a rest, Mrs. Kapinski. _

Then Mick’s voice comes over the phone, “Hey…”

“Hey, yourself, Michael…” Beth sniggers then dissolves into peals of laughter. She takes a breath, “Sorry, Michael. You were saying…”

Mick snorts and sounds vaguely irritated. “Hahaha. Boss-man said to bring your bed back, aight?”

“Okay, thank you, Michael.” She giggles again.

“Can it, Mrs. B.” but there’s an amused edge to the exasperated voice he is putting on. 

Beth composes herself, chuckles once more then asks, “Hey, Mick… Why now? I still haven’t done the job so… why?”

“Beats me,” Mick responds. “Guess only you know what you said to him Friday night.”

Beth flushes. She’s glad Mick can’t see her. But maybe her voice gives something away when she asks, “That what he said?”

Mick snorts. “Really? When you ever known him to say anything straight-up?”

Beth smiles a bit ruefully. “Yeah. I mean… he talks to you anyway.”

Mick laughs as though he’s genuinely amused. “I’ve known him sixteen years and it’s still like pulling teeth. So… what would I know about what you told him? Or why he’s doing this?” He continues, “Guess that’s between you two. Maybe he’s told you in the note though.” 

Beth thinks maybe Mick thinks he’s said too much because his voice goes serious. “Might be for the job you’re doing. All I know is that if I were you, I wouldn’t mess this one up or else… you know, what I’m saying?”

Beth’s mouth goes dry. But she tamps down the sudden anxiety and pushes back, “So Michael, when you deliver beds and notes and tiny, veiled threats to spice up our Sunday morning chats and make them so sweet, do you also bring coffee and doughnuts?”

Mick sniggers. “Aight, my bad. I guess you already know to just do it.” 

Beth doesn’t know why she’s nodding to Mick who can’t see her. Then he says something that takes her aback. 

“Hey, Mrs. B. Maybe just get it done so you can come back to your seat at the bar, yeah? Better for all of us when it’s not empty all the time.” 

She thinks her jaw literally drops. And she starts to say something; she doesn’t know what exactly. But Mick has already hung up.

\--

Yeah, Mick thinks maybe he told her too much. But everything’s better when that damn stool is not empty. And maybe someone needs to remind her of something nice for a change; like when she could walk into the bar and have a seat and wait for Rio and he would walk in and be happy to see her there. Instead of him walking in and looking angry and almost-afraid to go over to her like he did that night at 3am. Yeah, those were the good times; her on that stool and Rio happy about it.  _ Why’d you have to shoot him, Mrs. B? Why couldn’t you keep his baby Mrs. B? _

\--

Beth’s face is twisted. She can feel it but can’t seem to compose it;  _ Bemusement _ , she thinks.  _ That’s what this feeling is. _ And it’s plain to Annie and Ruby because Annie says, “What? What did Mrs. Kapinski want?”

“Rio’s putting my bed back.”

“Please, tell me we’re getting more than just your bed back for delivering his guns,” Ruby says. 

Beth shrugs. She thinks so. But she’s still trying to figure out why he would send her bed back before she’s done the job. That’s not how they do things; he always wants her to meet her end of the deal before he lifts a finger for her.  _ I’m having his baby.  _

In a moment of absolute clarity into what makes Rio tick, she asks herself,  _ So maybe because I’m pregnant he’s just giving me my bed back so I can be comfortable? Really?  _ Why does that make her feel surprise even as it makes perfect sense to her? Because somehow, that’s just the kind of guy she thinks he is. 

She has a moment in which she recollects Rio picking Marcus up from little league. Her lip quirks in a little smile then she feels shame for having stalked him all over town and gotten caught in his old apartment. 

“Wait, who’s Michael?” Annie breaks into her thoughts.

Beth snickers, “Mick…” She starts to giggle. “Mick… Mick is Michael.” Then it’s an odd sight to see because then there are three women in a cabbage field laughing fit to cry. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Is that what Mrs. Kapinski calls him when she brings him lemonade?” Ruby wants to know. There’s a round of chuckles and eye-rolling. 

Then there’s no time to say more because a familiar and  _ hardly _ well-loved voice sounds behind them, “Annie-bananie?”


	30. Murder, murder, murder... Kill, kill, kill?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth's job is done.
> 
> Now someone has got to be the steel.

**_Murder, murder, murder…Kill, kill, kill?_ **

**Beth:** _I’m your alternate escape route,_

**_The altar (alter) you pray to_ **

_Your ultimate saviour,_

_Just one kiss and you make me forget_

_All the bad, the battles we lost,_ **_the bodies we hid_ **

_You don’t know, just how far I’d be willing to go_

_You put the_ **_cracks into my moral code_ **

_\--_

**Rio:** _In your dream you’re drowning,_

_I just waltzed in and saved you_

_Gibraltar,_

_Your faith’ll never falter or waver, the_

_One you call to in danger,_

_I’m your guardian angel_

_\--_

**Brio:** _Baby, I’d kill for you_

_\--_

**Mood Music Credit: Kill for you** by **Skylar Grey** and **Eminem**

  
  


They deliver Boomer. It’s a long day and a sickening process; Boomer continues to be nothing but a pain in the neck. Apparently, being in the pen has taught him nothing. _But then again,_ Beth thinks, _you’d be a pain too if you finally figured out that your cellmate, Manolo, broke you out of jail just to deliver you into the clutches of the ganglord you ran afoul of._

The hardest part of the day is seeing Annie get heartbroken to find out that Marian died. Holding the urn with her ashes over the dumpster, Beth knows she’s not really going to pour them out into the garbage. Not because of Boomer; not even for Marian herself but because Beth sees a look of panic and pleading on Annie’s face. As she holds that metaphorical gun to Marian’s remains, Beth just hopes that Boomer doesn’t figure it out; Beth would never willingly do anything to hurt Annie. 

Beth flashes back to the night Boomer tried to rape Annie then figured out that the gun in Beth’s hand was just a fake. If previously she had been uncertain about delivering Boomer to his certain death, that memory of Annie bare-bottomed and whimpering for help with that same look of panic and pleading decides her. 

So she stomps down on her guilt. Stomps down harder. The remorse in Beth’s heart over what they are about to do dies almost all the way down. She gives it one more kick for good measure. And when later, that same crushed remorse mewls somewhere in her chest, she pounds down on it till it’s a gasping, broken thing inside her. 

In the end, Boomer gets back in the bag in the trunk, which for Beth is an odd thing to see; _huh! Who knew that even a lying, snitching, raping scumbag could love his grandmother enough to give himself up to save her ashes? Her ashes._ **_Ashes_ ** _._ Not even his grandmother but her ashes; it’s a mind-bender for sure. 

\----

Then Elizabeth’s pulling into the third floor of the empty parking garage opposite Rio’s G-wagon and the guilt inside her starts to whimper and beg to be heard. Each of Boomer’s wails regarding Marian’s ashes tugs at Elizabeth’s heartstrings.

She tells herself to ignore him. _He’s a lying, thieving, snitching, raping scumbag… He’s a lying, thieving, snitching, raping scumbag... He’s a lying, thieving, snitching, raping scumbag… He’s a…_

_Oh, Jesus! I’m a liar too. Okay, so he’s a thieving, snitching, raping scumbag…_

_Oh, God! I’m a thief too. Okay, so he’s a snitching, raping scumbag..._

_Oh, Christ! I snitched on Rio too. Okay, so he’s a raping scumbag..._

_Okay… Okay, he’s a raping scumbag..._

_He’s a raping scumbag..._

\--

Rio steps out of his car. Elizabeth’s heart does that thing it does every time she sees him. Aches. Stutters. Flips.Tries to leave her body. She hates it. She hates that she really thinks this is some sort of twisted, messed-up, very-real kind of love that she has for him. He walks towards the minivan.

Boomer wails in the trunk for Annie to pour out the ashes at, “the waterfall south of Mackinac bridge. They got married at sunset. I need you to say okay, Annie.” Annie doesn’t say okay but Beth knows; Annie will be there. At the waterfall south of Mackinac bridge at sunset. Annie will be there.

Elizabeth watches Rio walk towards her with Mick and Shapiro flanking him. His hands are shoved deep in his pockets. Her mind slips back to a faraway place; a place before any of this ever happened. She wants to say a place before there was any trouble in her life. But the thought is nearly fully-formed in her mind when she realizes it’s not true. It’s just one of those little lies our minds tell us to deceive us into wishing for a glorious bygone time in our lives. 

There’s always been trouble in her life. Trouble with her mum who wouldn’t leave her bed. Trouble with the father who said he was going out to buy some sugar to make her and Annie pancakes for breakfast but never came back. Trouble with school. Trouble with boys. Trouble with money. Trouble, trouble, trouble… always more trouble in her life… and all of ours for that matter. 

_It’s all an illusion; just us -grown-up and afraid- standing in the cold of our adulthood, pressing our noses against the windows of our childhood and seeing our younger selves and thinking those infantile forms of us were happier just because we see apple-pie on the kitchen counter and our sister jumping on the couch. There is no real glorious past; no happier yesterdays. Just the present and the future,_ Elizabeth reminds herself. _Only always the present and the future._

Just the same, Elizabeth’s mind slips back to the time when she and Annie had just met Ruby; to the time when she and Annie still wore mid-thigh high skirts and shoes with a little strap that buckled across the front of her ankles. When boys were a new and fascinating interest. Her mind plays a game that she and Ruby used to play. 

Rio takes a step; Elizabeth’s mind goes, _He loves me?_ Rio takes another step; Elizabeth’s mind goes, _He loves me not?_

Step; _he loves me._

Step; _he loves me not._

Step; _he loves me._

Step; _he loves me not…_.

_He loves me… he loves me not… he loves me… he loves me not… he…_

Then Annie tells Boomer to stop talking and her voice cuts into Elizabeth’s train of thought. And in the end Elizabeth still doesn’t know whether he loves her or loves her not.

Rio stops at her window and looks down at her; she rolls her window down.

“Hockey bag in the trunk.” He’s walking to the trunk before Elizabeth is quite done talking. 

“Pop it,” Rio says. 

Mick and Shapiro grab Boomer out of the trunk and carry him away in the hockey bag. She hears Mick ask Boomer whether Manolo got into any trouble with the prison guards while helping Boomer get out. Boomer wails that “No. No, he didn’t.” That Manolo’s all good and that Boomer thinks Manolo himself reported Boomer missing. Boomer sounds betrayed, livid, “I think that bastard himself sold me out to the warden.” Mick grins; _Manolo, you son of a gun!_

On second thought, Mick feels sure Manolo didn’t come up with that plan alone; _Rio and Manolo; you sons of a missile-launcher._ Boomer starts to cuss Manolo out for not getting him to Canada though and Shapiro deliberately drops his end of the bag. It has the intended consequences; Manolo is forgotten in Boomer’s more immediate pain. Then Boomer remembers himself and who has him in a hockey bag and goes back to pleading for mercy.

_How does she do it?_ Rio thinks to himself as he watches Mick and Shapiro carry Boomer from Elizabeth’s trunk. _Christ! How does she manage to turn me on without saying anything even remotely suggestive. Hockey bag in the trunk and I’m half-hard_ already _. Goddamn Elizabeth._ He hates it.

Elizabeth is irritated by the fact that her nipples are taut again. _“Pop it?” Really? “Pop it?” Could you be more suggestive than that? Making those explosive little Ps like you think I don’t know what you’re doing, Rio. God! How does he do that? How am I wet from just two words?_ She hates it.

But Elizabeth knows she’s assigning him blame that isn’t quite fair; as suggestive as _“Pop it”_ may be, it’s not the words so much as his raw sex appeal. _I mean, it just oozes out of him from every pore. Like he’s just sex on those long, lean legs. And he can’t be bothered to tamp it down. Walking about advertising his… his… his Big-Dick Energy, as Annie would say… his… Aaah! Just that predator in him waiting to pounce and devour…_ The question is loud in her mind; _Devour what?_ The answer just as deafening; _Me._ Elizabeth shivers. 

Her conscience breaks through her lust-filled thoughts. And as battered as it is, it won’t be quieted. 

_He’s a raping scumbag..._

_He’s a raping scumbag..._

_He’s a dead raping scumbag…_

_Jesus! He’s a_ **_dead_ ** _raping scumbag…_

_Because of us… because we delivered him… because of me…_

_I’m Murder-Beth…_

_I’m_ **_Murder_ ** _-Beth…_

_I’m…_

“Stop!” 

He does. Rio doesn’t know why he does. But he does. Maybe it’s because he had seen her hand on her belly when he told her to pop the trunk and that’s his damn baby mama demanding he stop. And that’s **_her sweet, lying mouth_ ** giving what his body understands as a command. So he does. Rio comes to a squeaking halt. He just yields to her so instantaneously that his sneakers literally _squeak_ on the floor. He hates it. Hates how his body surrenders to her; bows to her; wants to be _ruled_ by her.

He turns his head to look at her; his mouth is already inviting her to say her piece. It’s a betrayal; his stupid body recognizing its liege. He squashes the sound. But his lips still move; still form the word, “Yeah?” The word comes out so soft it’s barely audible. But she’s already seen it and she’s never needed his permission to open her **_sweet, lying mouth_ ** and run it at him anyway.

So he squares his jaw; juts his chin a little; a little gesture of defiant arrogance that reminds her who calls the shots between them; it’s not her. Not even if his body just wants to submit to her; to yank her out of the car, spirit her away from here then fall to his knees and worship at her cunt as at a fuckin’ altar.

Elizabeth says, “You don’t have to do this again.” 

“We’re all good now.” There’s something twisted about his little almost-smile. 

Beth can’t help herself; she continues, “It’s basic management, right? The best employees, the most loyal; they’re the ones who get a second chance.” 

“That’s why you are back on payroll. 12% off the top.” 

Rio’s voice is cold when he states his terms. He didn’t come here to negotiate. The terms are set; she can take them or leave them. He’s thinking; _Now don’t go getting all heated at me, mama. It’s all good. We’re all good now, darling._ He flashes back to the night he put a bullet in _fuckin’ Carman’s_ chest to punish her for getting him arrested and the words he’d said to her then; _“Now, we’re all good, darling.”_ He inhales a long breath. 

Then she opens her mouth and says the one he’s not steeled himself to hear from her tonight, “I don’t mean me.” 

_Huh? Now, that’s a surprise,_ Rio thinks. “Oh, him.” He starts to smile in the direction of Boomer-in-a-hockey-bag. “Yeah, I’ve got different plans for him.”

He’s about to walk away when he sees her open **_her sweet, lying mouth_ ** again. And again, it’s a surprise. It’s a surprise because _she_ just delivered Boomer and now she seems as though she’s getting ready to plead for Boomer’s life. It’s a surprise because Rio sometimes forgets who Elizabeth is. He forgets that she’s drawn this little line in the sand that she thinks she won’t go over. She won’t kill anyone. Except when she’s shooting **_me_ ** … or stabbing **_me_ ** . He inhales sharply and bites down on a hiss. _Goddamn, my traitorous body._ His jeans feel snug. He is suddenly glad for the car door between them.

_Her line in the sand that she won’t cross._

The thought echoes in Rio’s mind _. Goddammit, mama._ Goddammit because in this business, that line is a problem. That line is a problem because Rio knows that this business; it’s a man-eat-man and sometimes even a man-eat-dog kind of world. You only get to keep what you have if you’re willing to sweat for it, fight for it, bleed for it, kill for it and die for it. 

And the thing about a line in the sand, all it takes is one gentle wave to wash the line away. _Or a tiny baby’s foot to scuff the line as the baby takes its first steps on a sandy shore._ _Wait! Why am I thinking about babies’ feet?_ He knows where the thought has come from. He knows where he wants to take Elizabeth and the baby inside her. He knows which golden sand he wants to walk on with her and the baby. He quashes the thought and that yearning ache inside him. _Goddammit, Elizabeth. I’m not doing this with you, mama._

And still her **_sweet, sweet lying mouth_ ** opens and he’s suddenly had enough. He puts his hand into the car, pops her lock and opens the door.

“Out, mama! Let’s go.” Rio doesn’t mean to call her mama. Not in front of her sister and friend who he is almost sure have no clue what she’s been doing with him or that his baby is under that hand on her belly. It just slips out; _“Mama.”_

“What?”

“You heard me the first time, mama.” It slips out of his mouth again. Rio thinks he sees Ruby’s face contort; _irritation at me ordering Elizabeth about,_ he thinks. But Rio’s already walking away towards the ramp leading to the fourth level of the parking garage and he doesn’t have the time to spare for thoughts about Elizabeth’s girls.

Elizabeth steps out and follows him. She hates the feeling she’s got; she feels like she has been summoned to the principal’s office for errant behavior. Except instead of detention, she’s wondering how Rio is going to exact his satisfaction. Her mouth gets dry. She takes the ramp reluctantly behind him. He stops midway up the ramp; that’s far enough. They can’t see any of the other players in tonight’s little drama. So it stands to reason they can’t be seen either. Rio crowds into her space. 

“What was that?” 

She doesn’t respond. 

So Rio repeats, “Elizabeth…What. Was. _That_?

The words explode out of her, “You don’t have to do this again like you did with Lucy.” Rio clenches his jaw, grinds his teeth together. 

“Don’t you dare…” he grits out. “Don’t you dare bring up Lucy to me again.” 

When Elizabeth says nothing Rio continues, “What? You think I did that for fun? You think any of this is for my amusement? For a good old laugh?” _Goddammit, Elizabeth! Do you really still not understand that someone had to die that night for all the mess you had created? It was you or her. And what was I supposed to do; just leave her alive to talk to the cops?_

She still says nothing so he pauses, holds his forehead in his palm then runs the hand down his face to his jaw. He takes a couple of breaths and all the while he looks at her with something almost like bewilderment. 

“In case you need reminding I told you to deal with him and you didn’t, yeah? You let him go to the feds, yeah? So now _I’ll_ deal with it.” 

Elizabeth can’t hold back any longer. “He doesn’t have to die…”

“What’d I tell you about rotten eggs?” He steps closer to her. “You wanna talk about Lucy so bad. Okay, here goes; Lucy was _your_ rotten egg. _You_ brought her into it, Elizabeth. So don’t try to pass off all the blame to me. And we both know who had a hard-on for you who ain’t around to keep having it. What’d you call it again; _“Not the good kind”_ of hard-on? And that little weasel down there; that’s the rotten egg that put the fed onto you, aight?”

“Rio…” 

He cuts her off. He takes one more step to her. 

“Nah-uh, mama. Don’t Rio me now,” and though his voice is soft, his words are stern, “Aren’t you the one who just delivered him? And now you want to plead for his life?” 

Elizabeth doesn’t quite have a reply to that. When she doesn’t respond, Rio shakes his head at her and says the cruel words in such a soft and sweet voice that it guts her, “Maybe let’s start with you getting you off your high horse, darling.” She blanches; goes white. 

“So he’s just dead then?” _I’m Murder-Beth._

Rio just stares at her; his face is impassive. Then he sniggers. “Let me spell this out for you, Elizabeth; _I’ve_ got Boomer now. Boomer who broke out of jail and _you_ brought to me. Think of everything he knows about you. You _sure_ you still want him walking around? Falling into the wrong hands? ‘Cause if _you_ don’t mind, I can leave him around.” He lifts his hands in mock surrender; as if to say he would almost be glad to wash his hands off her Boomer problem.

Elizabeth feels a sudden chill. That sounded like a threat. And she remembers another body he used to coerce her. “Are you going to use him to blackmail me again?”

He rocks back. His jaw goes rigid. He locks his hands together and his knuckles go pale. He tilts his head at her; it reminds Elizabeth of him tilting his head at her that afternoon in the bedroom. Except then there had been a soft smile on his face but now his expression is rage-filled. Then he squeezes his eyes shut and takes a breath and Elizabeth can see the tension leave his body. 

Rio knows that’s a fair accusation. So he says, “What I’m trying to say, darling, is that you don’t get to have an opinion on what I decide to do with him.”

“What you decide… So you’re not going to kill him?” She almost sags with relief. 

“Look at you, mama; so relieved at the thought of leaving a rotten egg lying around.” He huffs out a breath. “Why do you have to do this, Elizabeth? Leave all these little messes lying around for me to clean up?”

He frowns and takes that last step to her so that his chest grazes hers with every breath either of them takes. Elizabeth is suddenly terribly aware of his closeness. Of the distant scent of _bergamot and vanilla_ in his hair. She wants to inhale deeply and breathe him in but her lungs won’t cooperate; suddenly her breaths are coming rapid and ragged. And every time she breathes, his chest brushes against her and even through her coat, she _swears_ that she can feel him against her nipples. And for the last 3 weeks or so, those nipples have been exquisitely sensitive. So…

She breathes; her nipples _feel_ him. 

He breathes; she swallows convulsively.

She breathes; her skin tingles. 

He breathes; the hairs on her arms rise.

She breathes; a shiver courses through her.

He breathes; heat unfurls in her belly.

She breathes; she creams her panties.

He breathes; her lips part. 

He reaches his left hand out to her, lifts her hair away from her forehead with his pinkie and pushes it back behind her ear. His fingers trail lightly down her earlobe, linger at that sweet spot below her ear, slip on down to her neck. Then his fingers curl around her neck and squeeze gently. Elizabeth gasps. Rio swallows and the eagle on his neck shifts and shifts and shifts. His fingers uncurl from her neck and his knuckles whisper over her skin to her chin. His thumb rubs on the dimple in her chin then goes on up to trace her parted lips. Elizabeth pants and pants. The eagle on his neck shifts and shifts. His lips brush over hers; so soft that she could almost not feel them. Then his hand is splayed on the baby bump and he’s saying against her mouth, 

“Any eggs you leave lying around, I will deal with _one way or the other._ One of us has to be the steel, mama.”

She gasps against his mouth. His lips close over that breathless sound. Then he’s walking away back down the ramp and saying over his shoulder, “Elizabeth, Go home and sleep.” 

**چوچو**

She does. She goes home and sleeps. 

\----

 **Brio:** _You could make me a believer_

_Even if that shit ain’t true_

_You could make me commit murder_

_Baby, I’d kill for you_

_\--_

**Mood Music Credit: Kill for you** by **Skylar grey** and **Eminem**


	31. Collateral Damage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone is. Collateral damage.

**_Collateral Damage_ **

**Rio:**

_ You’ve already made up your mind _

_ Just follow me babe, won’t be sorry you stayed _

_ \-- _

_ Baby doll, you’re perfect the way you are _

_ All I know is you love me, that’s really all that matters _

**_And any who cross our path are just collateral damage_ **

**_\--_ **

_ At your side, got your lateral, back, your front, diagonal _

_ Backwards, blackbirds, we attack like animals _

\---

**Mood Music Credit: Kill for you** by **Skylar grey** and **Eminem**

  
  


When Elizabeth gets home, her bed and nightstands are back where they belong. On the pillow is a folded sheet of paper and in Rio’s barely-legible hand, is scrawled her name; 

ELIZABETH

She opens it; 

Now that I know what I know;

I guess you need a good night’s sleep. 

Sweet dreams, mama.

Elizabeth knows what she’s going to do. She’s going to sleep. She’s going to get a good night’s sleep. And have sweet dreams. Just like he told her to.

She opens her nightstand; just one thing is missing; her vibrator. She thinks she  _ knows _ who has it. Suddenly, she thinks maybe she has never needed it before as much as she needs it now. 

  
  


چوچو

Dean comes in two hours later. The kids are fine, he tells Beth. What he doesn’t tell her is that he came home four hours ago. Then he walked into the bedroom and found the bed... and on it, the note. And he knew who wrote it. And it killed him to not know what That-Man was saying to Beth. And he thought about throwing it away but he thought she might know what he had done.

And now Dean is cursing himself; because he opened it and he still doesn’t know -doesn’t understand- what That-Man was saying to  _ Elizabeth _ even though he knows what the note reads. 

_ “Now that I know what I know; I guess you need a good night’s sleep. Sweet dreams, mama.”  _

What does that mean? What does That-Man know? What does  _ that neck-tatted man _ know that he, Dean presumably doesn’t know? What secret does That-Man know? What secret does Beth… No, what secret does  _ Elizabeth _ have that she told That Neck-Tatted Man but not her own husband?

What does it mean? 

_ “He flipped his game.”  _ Dean flashes back to a time when Beth had come into the car dealership and told him that Neck-tat had taken his money back. That’s what Beth had said,  _ “He flipped his game.”  _ As if Dean was supposed to understand the meaning of those words; yes, he knows the meaning of each of those words but… not in a row.  _ “He flipped his game.” _ Now Dean thinks he hadn’t been talking to Beth but to Elizabeth. That man’s  _ Elizabeth _ . 

Because right before Neck-tat smashed up that beautiful…  _ oh, my god! That bastard smashed up my beautiful corvette.  _ Dean puts his hand over his chest in an unconscious echo what he had done that night. He can feel the half-alive ghost of the pain of the moment right before Neck-tat drove the tire-iron through the mirror of  _ that beautiful, beautiful, oh-so-gorgeous corvette. _

Dean remembers watching in horrified, slow-motion certainty of what was coming; remembers seeing Neck-Tat take those two steps back then lift the tire-iron right over his right shoulder like a baseball player would, take two irritatingly graceful steps and then the tire-iron had smashed into the mirror. Home run. Sparks had flown. Glass everywhere. There had been glee and celebration on Neck-tat’s face. Dean feels the specter of the pain which had made him clutch his head; The Searing Pain. The Horror. The Shock. The Disbelief.  _ Aaah _ . 

It had been too much. “I’m calling the cops.”

“You can’t Dean. You can’t,” Beth had yelled at him. And that son of a bitch had demanded more and more of the profits from the money he wanted to force them to wash through the dealership. 

**30%;** the mirror; two steps back, two steps forward; tire-iron; smash 

**40%;** the window; two steps back, two steps forward; tire-iron; smash

**50%;** the windshield; two steps back, two steps forward; tire-iron; smash

Again and again and again…

And Neck-Tat had looked gleeful every time he’d smashed something; every time the glass shattered. Like a petulant child throwing mum’s favourite china and enjoying the sight of it breaking.

Then Beth had screamed out for Neck-tat to stop. ” You can have whatever you want. Just stop.”

And suddenly Neck-tat had just… stopped. And now Dean thinks that the reason he stopped wasn’t the fact that Beth told him –no, begged him- to stop but because of the other thing she said, “You can have whatever you want.”

The words reverberate in Dean’s mind;

_ “You can have whatever you want.” _

_ “You can have whatever you want.” _

And he did, didn’t he? Dean knows he did. Neck-Tat had what he wanted. And what he wanted was Beth. No…what Neck-Tat wanted was Elizabeth. And Dean knows Neck-Tat had her six ways to Sunday because she had done that thing in the kitchen; told Dean to take his pants off and then she had bent over the kitchen sink. And Dean knows…  _ Dean knows…  _ **_Dean knows_ ** … that Beth  _ -Elizabeth-  _ had just been recreating something That-Man had already done. 

And she had been disappointed. When Dean sucked it up and screwed her like That-Man had, she had been disappointed.

And she hadn’t even bothered to hide it.

_ “Do it. Just do it. Hurry up. Do it. Just do it.” _ She had been irritated and disappointed and unsatisfied.

The memory makes Dean want to smash something. Like this fuckin’ bed. Because he knows what she did to get it from That-Man. After all, it’s not like Neck-Tat returned anything else. Just the bed. After she came home –No... after Neck-Tat  _ drove her _ home- at 4am.

Did they have sex in it? Dean tries not to think about it but suddenly it’s all he can see; Beth –no; Elizabeth- screwing That-Man in this bed. And Dean knows,  _ Dean knows,  _ **_Dean knows,_ ** he’s not just imagining it. He knows it like he would bet his first-born’s life on it. They screwed in this bed. And Dean knows,  _ he knows,  _ **_he knows_ ** , they did it filthy.  _ That man _ just looks like he would enjoy taking Beth and her prim, proper, polite self and making her do nasty things. 

Dean wants to break something. He suddenly realizes that  _ he,  _ Dean, could do with a tire-iron and a corvette to go to town on; and in a moment of absolute clarity into what made Neck-Tat smash that car Dean asks himself;  _ Was he jealous? Was he jealous of me and the fact that I have Beth? _ It almost makes him empathetic to That-Man until he remembers that now, Neck-Tat has taken more of Beth than what Dean has left. And just like that, he is infuriated again.

Because suddenly he is wondering if Beth –Elizabeth- has been giving That-Man oral sex;  _ the thing she doesn’t like doing for me. _ Dean thinks yes. Because he knows,  _ he knows,  _ **_he knows_ ** she doesn’t just lie there like a fish. 

_ And  _ **_That-Man_ ** _ had sex with her and smashed a car because he wanted to keep having it. _ No. She doesn’t just lie there for Neck-Tat;  _ like she does for me.  _

_ She doesn’t even do that anymore,  _ Dean thinks bitterly. _ She doesn’t even lie there and write shopping lists in her head while I get her off. _ Then Dean has the grace to admit that he hasn’t really tried to get Beth off; to try to please her in a while. He would just get his own orgasm and ask her later if she wanted him to try again. But she’d just shake her head politely and Dean would tell himself that she was frigid… and that she could use the vibrator in her nightstand if she liked. 

He has a sudden thought; he lunges across the bed and opens her nightstand. And the vibrator is not there. Fuck! Dean knows,  _ he knows,  _ **_he knows_ ** who has it. Dean wants to destroy something.

And Dean now thinks he knows the meaning of the conversation That-Man had had with Beth. 

What are you doing?” Beth had sounded… anxious. And That-Man immediately knew that she hadn’t told  _ him _ , Dean, their secret. 

“You didn’t tell him, yet?” Neck-Tat had asked. He had sounded irritated.

“Tell me what?”  _ I asked them,  _ Dean thinks to himself. _ Just like a fool, I actually asked. And they just stood there and kept on talking to each other and didn’t even bother looking at me let alone answering me. _

“You didn’t tell him yet? You didn’t tell him, huh?” Neck-Tat had bitten his lip. Shaken his head at Beth. Smiled at her. But he had looked frustrated somehow even as he had smiled at her. Like a child with a burning secret who had been forbidden from tattling.

“No.” Beth had said.

  
  


“Oh, come on, ma. It’s too gooood.” The secret was too good? The sex was too good?  _ The sex was too good,  _ Dean thinks _.  _ And Neck-Tat had wanted Dean to know.

“Don’t,” she’d said… 

And now Dean thinks he remembers something half-hearted about the way she had said that “Don’t.” As though a small part of her would be relieved if Neck-Tat just came out with it so she wouldn’t have to.

Then they had had a silent conversation. Dean had been aware of the tension between Beth and That-Man but hadn’t understood what it meant. _Something had been written on Neck-Tat’s face. Something like disappointment. Or frustration._

“We’re partners now,” Neck-Tat had said.

  
  


Now Dean feels anger. Because he remembers standing there and foolishly asking Beth, “What is he talking about?” 

Beth hadn’t even deigned to look at him. She had been so focused on Neck-Tat that she just ignored Dean.

“Now I take 30%,” Neck-tat had said out loud. 

  
  


Then the smashing started;

_When I defied him; because that bastard was there for Beth –I mean, Elizabeth- and she refused to give him his treat; his toy;_ ** _her_** _._ _Then she also refused to let him tattle about what he had done with her._

_ And then I refused him the 30%. So he had the tantrum. That man is a fuckin’ child;  _ Dean takes that thought back as soon as he thinks it. Because Dean remembers Neck-Tat pounding the living daylights out of him and then putting a bullet in his chest. That hadn’t been child’s play.  _ Shit!  _

And Neck-Tat just kept smashing and smashing until Beth told him that he could have  _ whatever _ he wanted.  _ Then the tantrum ended. Just like that; because the bastard could have my fuckin’ wife. Wait… No, not Beth. Elizabeth. Neck-Tat doesn’t want Beth, _ thinks Dean.  _ He’s turning my wife into Elizabeth.  _

_And they had sex in this bed._ Dean knows. _Dean knows._ ** _Dean knows._** _That’s why the bed has been returned. Because they’ve had sex in it and now it’s sort of_ ** _That-Man’s_** _bed also._

Dean thinks he might never sleep again.

Dean thinks he’s finally understood something; Beth is his, Dean’s, wife. 

_ Elizabeth _ is  _ That-Man’s _ …  _ That-Man’s… his… _ The question is loud in Dean’s mind;  _ What? That man’s what?  _ **_His_ ** _ what? _

The answer an uncertain whisper that threatens to break Dean where he stands; 

**_His_ ** _ employee… _

**_His_ ** _ partner… _

**_His_ ** _ lover… _

**_His_ ** _ love… _

**_His_ ** _ Elizabeth. _

**_His_ ** _ … _ **** _ just… _

**_His._ **

**_His._ **

And Dean thinks that every day, there is more and more of That-Man's _ Elizabeth _ and less and less of Beth. Because Beth is vanishing right before his eyes. Disappearing. Fading. And soon she will pass from Dean’s sight and then cease to exist altogether. 

Then only That-Man’s _Elizabeth_ will remain. Then That-Man will take her.

So Dean thinks he hates That-Man’s _ Elizabeth _ for existing.

And Dean thinks he hates Beth a little for letting herself turn into That-Man’s _ Elizabeth. _

And Dean  _ knows _ that he hates  **That-Man** for taking Beth and turning her into  **_his_ ** _ Elizabeth. _

And Dean thinks he hates himself. For the helpless rage he feels. The impotence.

And now Dean thinks he could maybe almost kill something.  _ That man. _ Preferably. 

And now That-Man and  _ his _ Elizabeth have a secret that Dean doesn’t know. Dean’s thoughts are furious;  _ What on earth does  _ **_That-Man_ ** _ know? What does he  _ **_now_ ** _ know? Since Friday? Since Neck-Tat’s Elizabeth wore that dress for him? Since she went to him and came back at 4am? Since he brought her back at 4am? What did she tell him? What did she say that’s got Neck-Tat telling her to have sweet dreams. Sweet dreams, mama. _ **_Sweet dreams! Aaaaargh!_ **

Dean thinks he’ll never sleep again. 

\--

He’ll never sleep again. Because after he stole a look at the note, Dean stole off from his own house into the night like a thief. So he wouldn’t have to be there to see Beth morph into  _ Elizabeth _ as she read That-Man’s words to her. 

**_He’s_ ** _ the thief;  _ **_That-Man_ ** _ is the fuckin’ thief. And he’s stealing Beth right out from under me. _

Yes, Dean thinks he really could kill something. _That man._ _Preferably_. 

  
  



	32. Going Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth: Can't we just go back?  
> Rio: well, that's up to you. You gotta earn that.
> 
> Now she's done earning it.  
> So they're going back.

**_Going Back _ **

**Brio:** _It was always me and you_

_How could we be nothing, nothing?_

_If I could ask you one thing_

_\--_

_Why can’t we fuckin get along?_

_Forget everything we did wrong_

_‘Cause you’ve been the one_

_You know this will never change_

_Every day I still wait for you_

_\--_

**Brio:** _So wake me up when they build that tine machine_

**_I want to go back_ **

_Wake me up when you were sleeping next to me_

_Cause I really loved you_

_\--_

**Mood Music Credit: I still wait for you** by **Xylo**

 **Happiest Year** by **James Young**

  
  
  


It’s Monday; right now, that has no meaning. It will in 7 days.

**چوچو**

Rio is conflicted as he gets dressed to go meet her. On the one hand he wants nothing more than to make her happy. On the other, he will _not_ bow to her. Not even if it kills him not to do it. Because she’s Elizabeth. _She_ will never bend for him. The best he can hope for is that he breaks her. He’s not certain he knows what that would look like… and it makes him a little afraid to think about it.

He remembers what Mick had once said; “Just gotta push her and not break her until you guys are good again… Unless you’ve got to kill her… Or she kills _you_. For real this time.” And Rio remembers shivering. 

But sometimes Rio thinks that’s what he’s got to do; just snap her in half because waiting for her to bend for him; it’s never going to work. Even now. Even now when they’re all good. Even now when he should be breathing easy. He’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

And the worst part of it is that Rio doesn’t know who between them is going to take that first cheap shot. But he knows that the other person won’t stand down. Not him. Not Elizabeth. Neither of them will stand down. Instead, they’ll hurl words at each other like little knives… and then grab each other’s shirts and they won’t even wait to go out into the street to duke it out. And metaphorical punches will be thrown and guns will be drawn… _and some of those guns might even be real and loaded._

And they’ll destroy property and try to destroy each other but it won’t work because in the end, fighting her is like fighting himself. And he thinks he’ll hold back on his punches but then Elizabeth’ll take a bat and go to town on him…

Rio shivers. Has a memory. A memory of a dream. A dream in which Elizabeth attacks him with a blue plastic bat; he thinks it’s Danny’s. But when she swings at him, Rio hears gunshots _Bang… bang… bang._ And she kills him with it anyway; there are holes in his chest and he is choking on his own blood. Then she leaves him. It's always the same; _She's killing me. She's leaving me. And that’s just a fuckin’ dream. Christ! We’ve got issues, Elizabeth._

Yeah, so anyway, Rio thinks that soon enough they’ll duke it out and eventually, he’ll snap and hit back and they’ll both come away battered and bruised and bleeding… and half-broken but unwilling to surrender so they’ll have another go at it and in the end they’ll just fall into bed… -or up against a wall; _I really want you up against a wall again, mami…_ then go back to the fighting three days later… if the peace can last that long. _Fuck!_

_Mama, you got me so messed up; I wanna lose you, keep you, bruise you, hold you, choke you…_ **_I wanna love you_ ** _. Fuck! That’s the real problem, isn’t it? I wanna make you happy; I want to fuckin’ love you. I think maybe I love you. Goddamn you, Elizabeth._

And they’ll still never bend or bow to each other. 

Rio shudders; _I’m fucked._ He stares at the jacket in his hand… winces… then he puts it on and walks out. He’s picking Mick up… then they’ll meet Elizabeth. _Goddamn Elizabeth! So why do I feel… like maybe I could almost… be happy? We’re all good, mama._

  
  


**چوچو**

She’s got a strange breathless feeling; Elizabeth’s making a delivery today, of Rio’s funny-money and she knows he won’t send Mick; Rio will come in person. And it doesn’t feel like business. Even though it is. But it doesn’t feel like _just_ business. Not today. Because today, they’re going back. Back to how it used to be _Before_. Back to when he’d let his eyes linger over her and she’d watch him watch her with hunger in his eyes and she’d know. She’d just know how very, very bad he wanted her. 

But also that he was impressed. Maybe even a little proud of her. That he needed her. That she was valuable to him. That she was a boss bitch. _His_ boss bitch. That he saw her. Saw her; really saw her. The way no one else saw her. So yes, Elizabeth’s got a strange breathless feeling; she’s meeting Rio today and they’re going back. Back to the way it was _Before._

As much as any two people can go back together into _Before._

So she dresses up for him. And does her makeup just so; just the way that always seems to get him a little off balance. A little drawn-in. Drawn-in towards her. She is wearing a low-cut, V-necked black sweater edged in red at that dipping neckline. A tear-drop locket nestles between her breasts. Just before she steps out of the car into the empty park, she adjusts her cleavage for maximum effect; his eyes will be drawn there. He won’t be able to help himself. She’s not above using it; she thinks maybe he’s not above letting her. 

Then she sits at the picnic table and waits for him.

He steps out of the G-wagon. Her heart does that thing she hates; she wants to say skips a beat. She hates it. But today she could almost enjoy it. 

\---

Rio is wearing blue. Blue over black jeans. A blue button-down denim jacket the colour of Elizabeth’s eyes. _For her._ Today, for her, he’s wearing blue. He hates himself a little. _Pathetic, Rio. Why does she make me do such absolute sentimental nonsense?_ He knows why. Because he’s not above using it; and _this_ Elizabeth -Elizabeth from _Before-_ is not above letting him. _What’s she thinking anyway to make that_ **_sweet, lying mouth_ ** _of hers seem like it could almost smile?_

She’s thinking she hates him a little; where does he get the nerve? The nerve to look so good. And in blue. _He’s wearing blue! Blue! Good lord, was he always this…_ She gulps.

He takes a couple of steps. Does the thing with his mouth; the things where he compresses his lips to stop his face from giving away the lust he’s feeling. Except once, long before she shot him, Elizabeth had seen him do it and suddenly she couldn’t unsee it. And she had obsessed about the meaning of that little pout followed by the unexpected thinning of the lips. 

Until one day, making sandwiches for the kid’s lunch, she had distractedly thought of him and the meaning of that little gesture had simply sprung _fully-formed_ into her mind; concealed lust. Then to her, his hunger for her was suddenly… Naked. Bare. Stark. Exposed. Unconcealed. _Unconcealable_. And now he’s doing it and it’s giving him away to her; she tosses her hair.

Rio clocks the little hair-toss and thinks, _Aight, mami. Game on._ He wants to go over there and put his hands in those oh-so-strawberry blonde curls and run his fingers through it. He knows how it would feel slipping between his fingers; _so soft._ _Christ!_ He thinks he wants to go over there and put his head in her shoulder and fuckin’ breathe in the _cherry-blossom_ scent of it. He wants to take her down to the lakehouse and… _Yeah, mami._ _We should do that._ He thinks that hungry desire is starting to leak into his face so he compresses his lips. He doesn’t know it but he’s just given himself away again. _To her._

She sees it; that unexpected thinning of the lips after the pout. And it makes Elizabeth want to bite her lip. She tries to resist the urge. That’s her tell, she knows. Anxiety and lust both make her bite her lip, in just slightly different ways so that if you knew what to look for you might see the difference. She resists but she can’t quite hide how her eyes grow in her face and she unconsciously tilts her face down to hit him with the full effect of the eyes. 

Rio is watching it happen; _Fuck! That’s beautiful to see. And he knows what it means; desire, lust… for me._ The corner of his lip goes up. He compresses his lips. She clocks it. His hands go behind his back; the envelope of what she knows is her cut is in his right hand. He goes into that easy long-legged, loping walk. Then he does it; that other thing that gives him away. 

He rolls his shoulders back. His walk becomes somehow more loose-limbed, more… Elizabeth wants to say, rolling. Because now he’s doing an odd thing she’s never seen anyone else do; he has a lean in his stride. Like his weight is on his heels. And his toes… well, his toes never seem to touch the ground. She gets an image in her mind; of a predator, wild and hungry and lustful prowling the margins of its territory… and it’s coming right at her. 

She swallows the mewl trying to escape her mouth. She realizes what she is; she’s the prey. Her tongue darts out then she bites her lower lip. Rio clocks it. He stands a couple of paces behind Mick and watches her watching him while Mick drops the bag of ones onto the table and takes the boxes of the counterfeit _–Goddamn Elizabeth’s funny-money that she cooks herself for me like fuckin’ Midas; why does that make me want to…_

  
  


چوچو

Mick can’t get away from them fast enough; from Rio and Mrs. B. Because here Mick was, just doing his job like he always does. But now he’s exasperated. Exasperated and amused… and maybe a little nauseous. Because he is between these two again and they look like they’re in the beginning stages of that silent yet deafeningly loud, choreographed performance of faux-nonchalance which passes as a mating ritual between them. _And they think they’re so subtle about it, don’t they? I can see you;_ Mick wants to yell at them. _I can see you because I’m right fuckin’ here so if you would just go ahead and stop trying to undress each other with your eyes, that would be real fuckin’ great._

He is leaning over to pick up the funny money when he first becomes aware of it. Then he wants to run away. Run away or fuckin’ vanish. Just disappear in a small puff of smoke and be blown away by the breeze. He picks the first box off the picnic table. He starts to nod at Mrs. B then he realizes he’s practically invisible to her. Realises that these two have eyes only for each other. Literally. _She really doesn’t see me._

He picks the second box and glances at her again. He almost starts. Because now her eyes are fuckin’ huge. Huge like he’s never seen them before. Mick is not sure he’s ever seen eyes like that on anyone’s face. He stacks the second box on top of the first one and rolls _his_ eyes a little.

_Fuck!_ He needs to get out from between them. _They’re eye-fuckin’,_ Mick thinks. _Literally, eye-fuckin’ in front of me._ Suddenly, Mick is glad that he is turned away from Rio and can’t see him. He hates to imagine the hungry look that must be on Rio’s face; _Ugh! No._ He doesn’t want to think about it because he knows the look. He has seen it before. 

  
  


چوچو

Mick flashes back to a time so long ago that he almost forgot about it; he, Rio and Dags had gone to pick up clean cash from Mrs. B and her girls. They were supposed to meet Mrs. B and her girls at the park and had been surprised to not find them at the park entrance. So Mick, Rio and Dags had gone searching for her and her girls in the park and had unexpectedly come up on them at the swings. _Typical!_ Mick had thought. 

Then Mick had squirmed because they were talking about getting out. So Rio asked them what they wanted to get out of and they’d started making a pitch to quit _“their small role in the operation.”_ _As if that’s going to fly_ , Mick had thought. And in his mind, Mick was already picking out a place to dig their shallow graves when Mrs. B said something no one at that little rendezvous expected to hear. 

Mrs. B. _–She-_ had swung Rio the clean 100 grand in a bag and said, “It’s not working for us.”

“How so?” Rio had responded.

“We need more,” she had said. Her friend and sister had been taken aback. Yes, it’s clear to anyone with eyes that she’s the leader of their little gang. She’s the troublemaker. She had continued, “We’ve been clearing about… what? A hundred grand every few weeks for you?” She made it sound like small potatoes.

Mick had already seen it; the look on Rio’s face start to change. To turn into something wicked and appreciative and lustful. Like her standing there running her mouth at him was a turn-on. Mick had cursed mentally before she even said another word. Mick cursed because he saw Rio’s expression change. Cursed because he saw the trouble about to start. _Fuck! Rio, you’re not thinking straight,_ Mick had thought. _Come on, man. Use your fuckin’ head no matter what she says, Rio._ And Mick had felt helpless because _he_ couldn’t do what he wanted to do; which was grab Rio out of there and talk him down.

So he’d kept thinking thoughts **_at_ ** Rio, _Don’t do it, man. Don’t listen to her. Don’t fuckin’ do whatever she wants you to do. Because you’re not thinking straight; you’re thinking with your penis because she’s got you dazzled. You’re fuckin’ penazzled._ Yes, Mick knows that word usually means something else. But that’s exactly what she was doing to Rio; dazzling him and making him think with his pe… you get the point. 

And Rio’s look had been worrisome before but then she said, “We’re gonna need five times that amount to turn a profit and make it worth our time.” And she had said it with a smile and a casual little wave. Mick thinks that little wave was what brought Rio almost all the way back to his senses; it was just a little too casual. Almost; but not quite.

“You wanna clean 500Gs.” Rio had been incredulous.

“We can do it.”

“You don’t get more time,” and in Rio’s voice had been a hint of danger. A suggestion of consequences to follow. A thinly-veiled you-best-not-fuck-with-me. His narrowed eyes spelled out for her the trouble she was about to dig herself into if she failed to follow-through. She had been unimpressed. Just said, “It’s not a problem.” Rio had still been on the fence. 

Then Mrs. B opened her mouth and the words coming out of it along with a little smile and a small toss of her hair were, “Go big or go home, right?” 

And in the slight jut of her chin had been a subtle challenge as if to say; “I’m not here to try; I’m here to win, bitch. You wanna up the stakes or are you chicken?” It had been the perfect play. Because Mick knows that nothing can push a man to recklessness like hearing a challenge coming out of the mouth of the beautiful woman he wants. 

“You still got that momma-van?” _Christ!_ thinks Mick. Just the words momma-van should have been enough of a warning to leave well enough alone. But no. Not for Rio. For Rio, it was almost as though the fact that she was so very much the perfect, suburban soccer-mom made her quarry. And standing there running her mouth at him, she might as well have been stotting and waggling a little tail at him.

So Rio had been lost; his rational mind on pause for the instant it took him to ask, “You still got that momma-van?” 

But she cleaned the 500Gs and it might have been the most expensive money Rio ever made because he fell for her in the process and he paid for it with three slugs to his chest and what Mick thinks is a broken heart. _Fuck! That only she can unbreak. Christ! We’re_ **_all_ ** _fucked._

  
  


_“You still got that momma-van?”_

And right as Rio asked that question, the starving predator inside him had leaked onto his face before vanishing, gone off to lie in wait for a more opportune Time. But for an instant, it had been visible, prowling and ravenous and on the loose. And only spotted by Mick… and her. _Her._

Mrs. B _–She-_ had spotted it; seen that hungry, wild thing in Rio. Mick thinks she had been able to see it for a while. Maybe she had been even been able to see it since close to the start. Maybe she had just always seen it. 

And she had wanted to feed it. 

Feed that hungry creature herself. 

Feed it her very self.

Feed _herself_ _to_ it.

Be the prey.

Let herself be devoured.

Consumed.

By _him_. 

By Rio.

And now she’s doing it again; making like she’s prey when she’s really not. Mick thinks, _But she_ **_wants_ ** _to be…_ **_for him._ ** And Mick is glad that he can’t see Rio’s face because he knows what he would find; that famished beast lurking in his eyes that apparently, only _she_ can satisfy. 

Mick grabs the third box and steps back. Starts walking back to the car. He makes sure not to look at Rio’s face. 

\--

_There's no surrender and there's no escape_

_Who's in the shadows, who's ready to play_

_Are we the hunters or are we the prey?_

**Mood Music Credit: Game of Survival** by **Ruelle**

**چوچو**

**Brio:** _We've been moving backwards,_

_Waiting through the bad hurt_

_Existing in the upside down_

_We’re just tiny little fractures_

_Dust upon a master_

**_Ain’t it time to turn around_ **

_\--_

**Brio:** _Show me you love me_

_As it falls down_

**_We can pick up the pieces_ **

_If I make it out_

_With you; with you_

_Show me you love me_

_Don’t just make the sounds_

**Mood Music Credit: Show me** by **Gavin Haley**

  
  


Rio takes a small step aside to let Mick walk past him with the boxes of funny-money. Then it’s just him and Elizabeth. He tilts his head at her. _Aight, mama. We’re all good now, darling._ He gets goosebumps; yet again, he’s remembering himself putting a slug right in _fuckin’ Carman’s_ chest and the words he’d said to her, _Now, we’re all good, darling._ And his words had been just as convincing then as they are now. In a word; _Not._

They’re not entirely convincing now and they had never really been. He has lingering doubt about their truth. He feels a pang when he thinks, _how long till you screw me over again, Elizabeth?_ Doubt. Doubt that won’t be quieted. _How long till we’re at each other’s throat’s again?_

Yet Rio can’t help thinking that he just wants to take her. Take her right here in the park where her kids and Marcus used to play together. Take her right here in the park like in the dream he once had of her naked in the rain and bent over this same picnic table for him. But in his dream a gun went off between them and he doesn’t know who shot the other. 

And yes, he wants to take her right here in the goddamn park on the same goddamn picnic table where he once told her while she cried over Lucy in the rain, “You, me, we… It’s just business, darling.” Because _those_ words had been just as convincing then as they could possibly be now. In a word; _Not._

And he’d seen the fight; seen the light go out of Elizabeth’s eyes and he’d ached to unsay those cruel words. And even then, he had had lingering doubt about their truth. Now, he knows they had been a fuckin’ lie. It’ll never be just business between him and Elizabeth no matter how many times he says the words to her… or to Mick. 

Her and Mick. 

Elizabeth and Mick. 

They’re the only two people who see right through him. 

The only ones who see right through _to_ him.

Like no one else ever has. 

Like no one else ever could. 

They see him.

_Him._

_Fuck!_ And maybe he shouldn’t have brought Mick today. Maybe he should have come alone. Because Rio knows that if he had come here alone, he and Elizabeth would be somewhere behind those dark-tinted windows of the G-wagon and he would either have his face between her thighs or she would be seated on him rocki… 

Rio wants to clear his throat. He presses his lips together and swallows; tilts his head at her, lifts his chin a little. He sees how her eyes fall on the eagle on his neck. There’s her tell again; she bites her lip and he knows she’s thinking of biting that spot just below his ear; at the very tip of the eagle’s wings. He knows he makes an odd sound every time she has done it. But for the life of him, he can’t seem to stop himself from doing it. 

It doesn’t help that he had never known that that spot was erogenous for him until Elizabeth nipped him that first time in her bed. And he’d been teetering on the edge with her already fluttering around his cock but when she bit him, he made that strange little noise and lost what tenuous grip he’d had on his control and just came in her. He wonders if that was the time that got her pregnant. And now she does it every time she wants him to lose control and it still sends him skittering with her right over into happy groaning oblivion. _Fuck!_ _I want to hold you and my baby, mama,_ he thinks.

He puts her cut on the bag of ones. And in that morning sunshine, he looks a long, lingering look at her like he hasn’t let him do since the afternoon she kicked him out of her bed. Rio lets himself look and remember; every little bit of her and how she undoes him every time he lets her. He lets her see him look. She tosses her hair again. _Mmmmmh._ He thinks he might drop Mick off and go back to Elizabeth’s house. Then it won’t be business but pleasure and he can please her all fuckin’ day long… and himself. 

_Mmmmh;_ he thinks he likes the thought of that. Pleasing her will please him. His eyelids drop low and hood his eyes from her; in those depths, there’s a fire burning just for her. He’s almost glad she can’t see it. 

Yes, he’s a fuckin’ mess, he knows. But it’s Elizabeth… _Goddamn Elizabeth and she’s got my baby in her. And we’re good now, darling._ He’s almost happy. _Fuck that!_ He **_is_ ** happy. He smiles at her; a small upturning of the corner of his mouth. Then he’s walking back to the car.

_Yeah,_ he thinks he’s going back to her house and getting her and taking her to the lakehouse today. He knows this spot where if you park right on the brow of the hill, you can see the lake below you and no one can see _you._

That spot holds… promise.


	33. Happy Thoughts and Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mick's starting to think maybe he just needs to give off more good vibes around Rio and Mrs. B.
> 
> Also, who can resist the chance to tease an obviously whipped Rio? Not Mick.

**_Happy Thoughts and Hope_ **

Mick stashes away the boxes of her funny-money and gets back in his seat. He shudders violently, sticks out his tongue like he’s got a bad taste in his mouth and makes an exaggerated mock-gagging noise. 

Look, he’s happy that Rio is happy. He’s happy that Mrs. B is happy. He’s happy that she and Rio are both just fuckin’ happy. But now he thinks they need to get past the _fuckin’_ happiness and just get on with the actual fuc… _You know..._ Mick thinks. _Get on with the actual F word-ing._

That’s what those two need to do. 

_And please God, please just let them do it soon and get it out of their systems because I really don’t wanna get caught in the middle of one of these eye-fuckin’ situations again._ Mick watches Rio put her cut on the bag of singles. He watches Rio linger. _Good Lord! Really?! You’re not even going to try and contain it?!_ Mick knows he is watching Rio putting _all_ the moves on her; and Mick knows them all from 16 years of knowing Rio. 

  1. The long-legged walk with the lean in it. 
  2. The hands behind his back thing that shows off Rio’s chest; it makes women look. 
  3. The squared jaw and slightly jutting chin to make them look at that tattoo they’re all so mad for. It holds a hint of challenge, that chin; as if to say, _“Try me. Try me, if you dare.”_ Rio also unconsciously puts a bit of insolence into that lifted chin; Mick thinks it makes women eager to please. 
  4. That peculiar slow blink followed by Rio’s complete attention or the rapid blink followed by those eyelids hooding his eyes over; Mick wonders which he is doing now.
  5. The slow quirk of the corner of his mouth that doesn’t actually give way to a full smile.



Now see here’s the thing. Mick has seen them all; seen Rio pull those moves both consciously and unconsciously. But now… now Mick is watching something he’s never seen before; He’s watching what looks like Rio’s entire mind, body, heart and fuckin’ soul apparently in complete agreement of what they want; Mrs. B.

And it’s almost painful to watch because it’s clear to Mick that today Rio looks like he’s just a little bit out of control. Like he wants her so bad. Like he _needs_ her so bad. Like he _needs_ her to want _him_ so bad. Like he _cares_ so bad that she want him so bad. Like he hasn’t eaten in forever and he is about to have a four-course meal and the fourth course is her. 

_Jesus!_ _Come on, man. Play it cool, Rio._ Mick sniggers. _Play it cool? How now? For fuck’s sake, Rio is wearing blue. An unusual shade of blue._ Mick’s brow wrinkles. _What shade of blue is that even? Something like Prussian blue or… Oh! Wait; that colour is suspiciously close to the shade of Mrs. B’s eye colour._

Mick feels nauseous. _Come ooooon! Really? Now you’re dressing to match her eyes?_ ** _Her eyes?_** He sniggers; _Pathetic, Rio. Just fuckin’ pathetic. You’re too far gone to be saved._ Then he grins, _Good for you, man. Go on and get it, you son of a gun!_

_Good for you, man. Go on and get it, you son of a gun!_

Because, the thought has just occurred to him to look at Mrs. B; really look at her. Something Mick never actually does. Because he’s likes to think he doesn’t go about objectifying women. And also, she’s Rio’s… um, territory. But now Mick looks and he is relieved for Rio’s sake because –and Mick would laugh if he weren’t throwing up a little in his mouth- _She_ too has dressed up for Rio.

_I mean, excuse me for noticing, Mrs. B,_ Mick thinks **_at_ ** her. _You couldn’t even try for subtlety with the cleavage, could you? You just decided to put them out there in Rio’s face, huh? Like I promise you he would still be losing his cool over you if you just showed up in sweats and an old t-shirt. That’s how bad he has it. Christ! And the necklace; really?! He did not need any further direction on_ **_where_ ** _to look but yeah… okay… I guess you weren’t leaving anything to chance._

Mick chuckles. It’s all a bit much honestly. These two are just… _blegh!_ He fakes a gagging noise again. Then Rio is walking back to the car and Mick shudders for real; because spending the next hour in traffic with Rio is certainly not an exciting prospect. 

Mick thinks it would be literally insufferable. _I mean, yes; I could just spend it mocking him… but he’s so fuckin’ far gone it wouldn’t even be fun._ _Christ! He’s probably giving off pheromones and shit! Kill me already._ Mick mimes putting a gun under his chin and pulling the trigger. Then he pretends to slump back into his seat. Yes. Yes, Mick knows he is a fuckin’ child sometimes _. But come on! No one,_ ** _no one_** _wants to see their boy this whipped._

He gets out his phone and calls Dags. Rio starts to open the door and wrinkles his brow. _Why is Mick slumped back like that?_ Then he sees the phone in Mick’s hand and shrugs. 

“Yeah, the corner of 7th and Busey. How long? Okay, cool. 15 minutes is fine.”

Rio climbs into the car. Mick gives him a look and continues into the phone, “Yeah. And Dags, reeeally put the pedal to the metal. Yes… yes… just get there quick, Dags.”

Rio raises an eyebrow in a silent question. “It’s all good,” Mick says. Rio shrugs. 

  
  


**چوچو**

Rio pulls into traffic. Mick shakes his head because Rio still seems a bit out of it; as though his mind is not in this car but… _with_ **_her_ ** _,_ Mick realises. _You’re not even thinking right now, are you? And if you are, it’s all just penis logic, isn’t it, Rio? Fuck! I hope that fog lifts before the one she is in does. Because the last time this happened you ended up with 3 slugs in your chest. One would imagine you have a clearer sense of your own mortality, Rio. And she’s item number one on the Cause-of-Death list for you, man._

And Mick feels entirely conflicted about Mrs. B. He looks inside him, tries to find the crux of his ambivalence towards her. He thinks that Rio nearly dying at her hand only means one thing to Rio; she’s fuckin’ his and he wants her. Only her. And that makes her so fuckin’ dangerous to Rio. 

_Yes, yes, I get it. She makes you…_ **_whole_ ** _or whatever. I get it. But on the other hand, she’ll destroy you in an instant and you will never see it coming and even if you do, you will never be able to take her out._

But Mick also remembers how Rio had been when he met her; in the Time _Before_ she shot him. Rio had been the closest to happiness that Mick had ever seen him. And that makes Mick hold out hope; Hope that these two crazy kids can fix it. _Is that too fuckin’ much to hope for?_

  
  


The hair on Mick’s neck rises. He’s remembering things that he has said to Rio before; 

**_Mick;_ ** “To War, Rio; for kingdoms and for the women we love. We know; they’ll be the death of us.”

 **_Mick;_ ** “She’s crazy scary. Scary coz of the crazy…She’s nice. I like her.”

 **_Mick;_ ** “Just gotta push her and not break her until you guys are good again… Unless you’ve got to kill her… Or she kills _you_. For real this time.” And Rio had shivered.

**_Mick;_ ** “Not too sure you can take _her_ though.” 

Then Rio’s voice had been so quiet that Mick almost doesn’t hear him, “I don’t think I can take her, Mick. Elizabeth. She tried to kill me and she’ll try it again and one day she’ll get it right. And I know it and I still can’t kill her.” Mick had laughed, “No shit!” 

But later Mick had been uneasy so now whenever there’s business to be done, Mick insists on tagging along. And standing behind Rio; silent and implacable and forgotten while they argue; and fight; and love each other in that hurtful way they only how to love each other in.

It gives Mick anxiety to watch it. Still, he just stands there silently behind Rio, making it obvious to her that he’s there to protect Rio. Implying he'd willingly put a slug in her if she made the wrong move. But Mick is still uneasy because he knows it's a bluff; he doesn't think he could take her out either. _And what if she calls my bluff one day?_

But still he stands there: a reminder to Mrs. B not to try anything on Rio. While Rio puts himself out there and tries to fill that hole in him. And some days it's harder than it has to be. Because it doesn’t take two people to pick up the cash; Mick could do it alone and it would almost be less painful for them all. 

But Mick knows Rio needs, - _needs-_ to be there. Because Rio needs her. Needs to see her. Needs to sit in the car and look at her. Needs to feast his hungry eyes on her. Needs to be around her. Needs to breathe the same air. Needs even to argue with her, fight with her, hurt her, hurt himself, hurt them both. Rio just _needs_ her. So Mick has to be there; to protect Rio from the one thing he can’t protect himself from. Her. 

Then when business is done, Mick can relax because both Rio and Mrs. B drop the angst and just turn into something else… Something soft sometimes… something ravenous for each other sometimes… something that somehow makes Mick uncomfortable to be around. And today… _blegh!_

He slips back into the past again;

**_Mick;_ ** “To Babies, Rio; God love them and protect them and preserve their innocence.” 

Mick had raised his glass to Rio and they had both drunk. Then Rio had swallowed hard and Mick thinks Rio had been swallowing tears. And Rio’s voice had barely been a whisper when he said, “I don’t need the paternity test, Mick, to know what I know. The baby’s mine. I can feel it in my bones.” 

_In his bones._ Rio had felt his baby in his bones. _His fuckin’ bones._ And Mrs. B still didn’t keep it. It breaks Mick’s heart because it broke Rio’s whole self. 

Mick finds himself thinking **at** Mrs. B, _Why couldn’t you just keep his baby, Mrs. B and just fuckin’ unbreak him? And come to think of it, why is Rio driving with that look in his eyes like his_ ** _whole_** _self is with you, Mrs. B, and only his body is in this car? Like he is_ ** _whole_** again? _And why do I still like you after all that?_

And Mick can’t help but remember;

An empty barstool and an empty bottle in a crowded bar,

And the third shot of bourbon,

That Rio had been too shit-faced to drink;

To Babies, God love them and protect them and preserve their innocence.

And Mick is not superstitious but he is starting to think that Fate has turned her dark, baleful eye on Rio, has been stalking him and skulking up close behind Rio and looking over Rio’s shoulder and breathing her rank, icy breath down Rio’s neck. And Mick thinks his words might have something to do with it. It’s an unsettling thought to have on such a bright and sunny day. He shivers. 

_Think happy thoughts, Mick. No more dark thoughts. Happy thoughts only around Mrs. B and Rio. No more calling Fate down on him,_ Mick tells himself. _Happy thoughts and Hope._

\--

So Mick shakes off the pensive mood he has been in and decides he’s got to get at least one good shot at Rio in. Opportunity does not grow on trees, after all. And yet, here it is just ripe and ready for the plucking; waiting for Mick to just reach out and take it.

“Hey, is that Prussian blue?” Mick asks a little too casually. It says something about how distracted Rio is that he doesn’t even notice the teasing undertone in Mick’s voice. 

“Not too sure. But I think Prussian is a bit darker than this.”

“Cool, cool. Nice jacket though. New?”

Rio glances at Mick. That’s an odd question coming from Mick. “Since when do we talk about clothes, Mick?” Rio asks. He seems to almost be thinking aloud. 

But Mick responds with, “Since you fuckin’ showed up to a funny-money pick-up wearing a spanking new blue jacket that looks just like her eyes, that’s when. _Blue,_ Rio. Her eyes. _Her_ **_eyes_ ** _!”_

It speaks to the size of the cojones on the man, thinks Mick, that Rio doesn’t outwardly flinch. Instead, he tries to turn the conversation on its head and goes hard at Mick saying, “A man can wake up and wear a colour other than black, Mick. You should try it sometime, Mick; go on. Wear something bright once in a while.” 

And Rio almost gets away with flipping that script too. But he makes that fatal mistake of all guilty and desperate men everywhere. He talks just a little too long, “There’s hundreds of them for you to try, Mick; hundreds of colours.”

And Mick sees his opening and starts laughing before he’s done getting the words out, “Hundreds, huh? Sure coulda fooled me because you only wear black and now, apparently, blue to match her eyes.” Rio gulps and swallows hard. He is caught and he knows it. 

He growls, “Fuck off, Mick.” But there’s no heat in it and there’s a quirk at the corner of his mouth. Mick laughs and pretends to shudder. “ _Blegh!_ You guys give me the heebie-jeebies.”

“What are you; eight?” asks Rio in mock exasperation.

“What I am is _out_. I can’t stand one whole hour of you in your current fuckin’ state. So drop me off at 7th and Busey. Dags should be waiting by the time we get there.”

Rio tries to hide it but he’s not exactly disappointed not to have to drive Mick and the money all the way back to the bar. Now Mick and Dags can go deal with the cash and he, Rio can turn around and… He shivers. _See you soon, mama. Fuck! What is this you’ve got me doing, darling?_ But first he needs to haul Zorada over the coals. _Cool; Shouldn’t take too long either._

He’s wrong about that but he doesn’t know it yet. 

Rio pulls into the spot beside Dags’ car, rolls down the window and nods at Dags. “All good?”

Mick steps out of the g-wagon and has the satisfaction of getting the last word in. 

“Because you’re my bro…” Mick thumps his fist over his heart in a sardonic imitation of that universal gesture of heartfelt emotion. “Because you’re my bro, I will take _this_ to my grave.” he waves an encompassing hand in Rio’s general direction then mimes locking his mouth and throwing the key at Rio. 

Then he picks up the three boxes and slams the car door. 

“Fuck off, Mick. What are you; seven?” Rio mutters to himself. But there’s still no heat in it and the quirk at the corner of his mouth remains. He pulls into traffic. Zorada’s office is not too far from here. 

_Yep!_ He’s in a mood to raise hell. 

Then go put his face between Elizabeth’s soft thighs and make her raise the roof.

**Beth:** _Lately I can’t sleep I flip the pillow_

_Tossing and turning and checking my cellphone_

_My head is a mess and so is my bedroom_

_I write a text then delete it, I love you_

_\--_

**Rio:** _Every second feels like forever_

_Where the fuck you been_

_Are you listening?_

_Don’t know what you got until it’s gone_

_\--_

**Brio:** _Baby, all I need is you to tell me_

_Why can’t we fuckin get along?_

_\--_

**Mood Music Credit: I Still Wait For You** by **Xylo**


	34. Raising Hell // The Riot Act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rio plans to raise hell with Zorada. To rip her a new one because she told Elizabeth to 'exercise her options' and consider not keeping Rio's baby.
> 
> It goes about as well can be expected. Right?

**_Raising Hell //The Riot Act_ **

**Rio:** _ I will march down an empty street like a ship to the storm _

_ No surrender, no retreat, I will tear down every wall _

_ Just to keep you warm; just to bring you home _

_ I will burn this city down for a diamond in the dust _

_ I will keep you safe and sound when there’s no one left to trust _

_ Will you take my hand; we can make our stand _

_ If your world falls apart, I’d start a riot _

_ If night falls in your heart, I’d light the fire _

_ In the dark, when you sound the alarm _

_ We’ll find each other’s arms _

_ - _

_ For your love, all you are _

**_I’d start a riot._ **

_ Yeah,  _ **_I’d start a riot._ **

**Mood Music Credit: Start a Riot** by  **Banners**

It doesn’t go how he expects it to. A riot act is read and he’s not the one reading it.

\--

She is on a conference call when Rio ignores her assistant and walks right in. He knows they won’t be interrupted. Once he’s in her office, no one ever interrupts.

It’s the fact that he can see her through the glass walls of her office that sends him over the edge. Because Zorada looks relaxed. And pleased with herself. Like the proverbial cat that ate the canary. And as though she’s having a good day. And suddenly Rio feels his blood pressure escalate. 

Because what right has she to sit there looking so relaxed and pleased and as though she’s having herself a good day when he’s been having the worst four months of his life and she made the last two and a half so much worse? He feels sick just thinking about it. She’s on a video conference call; but she won’t be for long. 

“Get off the call, Zorada,” Rio says from her door. He does her the courtesy of staying out of sight of the camera. She startles and hesitates. Then with a frown on her face, she lifts a finger to him and mouths “I’m busy now.”

He sees fuckin’ red. He would never normally do what he does next but he’s been stewing in his rage since Elizabeth told him what Zorada had done. So for two days he has tried to calm himself so he doesn’t lose his shit with Zorada but this is fuckin’ enough. She told Elizabeth to consider an abortion and then played tennis and had lunch with him nearly a dozen times as though she had done nothing… and never once mentioned it.

He walks in and yanks the camera from its port and drops it on the couch. Then he unplugs the screen on her wall; it goes dark. Zorada is shocked.  _ Good. _ She starts to rise from her chair but sits back down because Rio is looming over her from beside her desk. 

They speak at the same time. 

Zorada says, “What on earth, Christopher?” and Rio says, “What the hell, Zorada?” They look at each other for a beat and each recognize the anger on the other’s face. She’d been on a conference call with an overseas client discussing prospects of a merger.

But she’s never seen Christopher’s face this angry before. Not even when Elizabeth, the woman he was having an affair with got him arrested by the FBI or shot him. She ends the video call; makes sure the microphone is off. Then she sits back in her seat. She narrows her eyes and sits perfectly still looking steadily up at him. 

Yes, Christopher’s old money with the polish and suavity to match but Zorada knows underneath that smooth veneer lies a deadliness that few people would understand as well as she does. Underneath that smooth veneer lies… Rio. She’s known him for 14 years and in that time, no one has ever been able to assemble much of a case against him. And they have tried. Oh, they have tried. But somehow, people keep falling off the face of the earth or moving across country or recanting testimony. 

For crying out loud, when for two months she had thought that he was dead, the unexpected sound of his voice on the phone had been preceded by the gunning down of an entire federal task force working off the books to take down the bosses of Detroit underworld. The only thing those feds had accomplished was to take down one of Rio’s rivals and a whole bunch of clueless small fish. 

But he had had an alibi; he had been at the Arden hotel with witnesses and security feeds to vouch for that. But Zorada doesn’t believe in coincidence. The reason no one has been able to come close to touching him is that underneath that charming exterior is a cool, calculating intellect and the willingness to do anything and everything to protect his interests. And Zorada doesn’t have even one other client about whom she can say the same.

And now he is here in her office and he is looking at her like he never has in 14 years; like she is the villain in his story and he is ready to take her out. Yes, she recognizes murderous rage when she sees it. She doesn’t cow or flinch. He wouldn’t try anything; not just because he is in her office but also because… well, he’s Christopher and she’s Zorada. They understand each other. They have history. Fourteen years’ worth of history. 

When you’re on the back foot, the best defense is to attack, right? So Zorada lights into him, “What on earth are you doing intruding into my offi…?” Rio cuts her off.

“Why don’t you tell me? Why don’t you tell me, Gretchen, why you’re in my personal business when I didn’t ask you to be?”

She is blank. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, baby.” He scoffs, “That’s how little my kid means to you?”

“Marcus…? What?”

Rio cuts right to the chase, “Why don’t you tell me, like I’m really slow, what on earth you were doing at Elizabeth’s workplace telling her to get an abortion? Why’re you in my personal business?”

Zorada makes a small noise of understanding, “Oh.” 

It makes Rio wrathful, “Oh? That’s what you have to say;  _ Oh? _ What did you tell her, Gretchen and what gives you the right…”

“I simply reminded her that she has options.”

He goes really still. His voice goes soft and smooth and very, very gentle. “Options? Like getting rid of my baby, Gretchen? Like not keeping my son or daughter, Gretchen?”

“Listen… Christopher, let’s dial this back a notch because I think you’re letting your emotions get the best of you.”

Rio shuts his eyes and he takes a slow breath then rolls his shoulders. Then his eyes pop open and he sighs. “Here’s the thing, Gretchen. When I came here, I thought you’d tell me that this was all a big misunderstanding. But now it sounds to me like you knew exactly what you were doing when you went to her and told her to…”

“I didn’t  _ tell _ her anything.”

“Don’t play that game with me, Gretchen. You’d best not try to pull that lawyer crap on me. This ain’t no courtroom and there ain’t no judge or jury here besides me. So don’t you even try it.” 

He takes a breath and plows right back in. “You told her… told her, suggested to her, insinuated, proposed…you want me to get you a lexicon? You told her, made her believe I didn’t want that baby while you knew that wasn’t true. And I didn’t ask you to do it, Gretchen and you know, you know you had no business doing it. So again, explain to me, like I’m real  _ fuckin’ _ slow, what makes you think you have the right to do that and why I shouldn’t get rid of you and be done?”

She hears the threat. She just doesn’t know whether it’s a threat of bodily harm or if he means to be rid of her as his lawyer. “Listen, Christopher,” she’s trying to calm the situation. But it’s not working because she’s calling him Christopher and he’s calling her Gretchen. He’s being personal because he’s talking about personal stuff and she’s still trying to keep a professional bent to this. But there was nothing professional about what she did. Still, she wears her professionalism like armour and she’s not about to give it up easily. Not in this office at least. 

So she says again, “Why don’t you sit down, Christopher?”

He lifts his hands to his head and locks his hands on the top of his head.  _ Shit! _ She knows that gesture. It means rage. She gulps. 

He speaks, very slowly and very clearly, “You misrepresented yourself to her. Made her think I had sanctioned what you said. And then, you went home, Gretchen, and went about your happy little life knowing all the while that you had just motivated her to be rid of my baby.” 

He shoves his hands deep in his pockets. She knows that gesture too; more rage. “And you ate and you slept comfortably and you played tennis and had lunch with me for two fuckin’ months and never said a word. And then you think, that I’m going to stand here and listen to you patronize me and discuss semantics with you? You think I’m here to play word games about my kid, Gretchen? My baby?” To say that Rio’s voice is cold, would be to call an arctic blizzard a cool breeze.

“And I thought it was a fuckin’ mistake. A misunderstanding . But I see now that you knew what you were doing, yeah?” He steps closer to her and says practically in her ear, “The only reason I’m still here talking about it, is that she didn’t go through with your little  _ suggestion. _ I’m having a baby, Gretchen… no thanks to you.”

Something odd happens; she seems to slump into her seat in relief. “She kept it?” and Rio feels that he suddenly isn’t looking at Zorada but at Gretchen. 

Gretchen. Not Zorada, the ice-cold officer of the law beholden only to herself. Gretchen, his friend of 14 years who actually gives a shit about him. Gretchen, who he’s been trying to get through to since he walked in here. Gretchen, that monster loyal to him who only comes out to bat for him when shit has absolutely hit the fan and Zorada would usually draw a line which she will not cross. Gretchen will. Gretchen will cross those lines for him. 

Only now, she crossed some lines a ways back and it nearly cost Rio his baby. Gretchen, that’s who he’s been talking to since he came here.

She puts her head in her hands and breathes into them. And something is soft and broken and guilty in her voice when she says, “It  _ was _ a misunderstanding.”

“I thought you wanted me to know so I could take care of it; like I’ve always taken care of everything else.” she hits a button. The windows frost over. Rio steps back. Now they’ll get to the truth of things. When the windows frost over, that’s when the real talk is about to begin.

**چوچو**

Rio is still mad and he really doesn’t want her to turn into Gretchen yet; still needs her to be Zorada so he can be mad at her some more. Because he can’t really rage at Gretchen. So he says in a moment of fury, “You thought. You thought.” he scoffs. “That’s what you thought? In case you haven’t figured it out, I don’t need you thinking for me, Zorada.”

She hears the change in name. And it means to her exactly what he wanted it to mean; he’s not about to let her off the hook because she went soft on him. But he asked for Gretchen. And now he’s demanding she turn back into Zorada again so he can tick her off some more. 

And as justified as she knows he is, something about that flipping back and forth, that getting her to let her guard down and then showing her that her remorse was meaningless to him, it makes her hackles rise. And now she doesn’t have the guilt of him losing his baby because of her words so she comes out of her chair and out from behind her desk and she’s standing up to him when she practically spits at him her next words, “Yeah? You don’t need me thinking for you?”

She sniggers. “Maybe you do. Because you sure aren’t thinking with your head where that woman is concerned.”

He asked for her. For Zorada. But this woman in front of him is neither Gretchen nor Zorada. She’s something in between. Something emotional like Gretchen. Something that’s hitting back and fighting like Zorada. And it’s exactly the wrong combination. It drives him into a fury, releases him from his restraint. Because he can be upset at Gretchen but can never really hit hard; and he can hit hard at Zorada but never really show anger. And now he can do both. 

Rio crowds her into her space, “Listen to me,  _ counselor… _ ” He says it just like that; puts all the emphasis on the word counselor. 

He fills it with disdain. 

Fills it with distaste. 

Fills it with his rage. 

Fills it with his rejection of her remorse. 

“Listen to me,  _ counselor _ … you had best not presume to step into my personal life. Your  _ job… _ ” Again; Disdain. Distaste. Rage. Rejection of her remorse. “Your  _ job _ is to do what I tell you to do. And I don’t need the kind of bitch-ass drama that has you in my personal life deciding for me if I get to keep my kid.”

She loses it. Goes absolutely livid. “Maybe I don’t need  _ your _ bitch-ass drama in my law firm either.”

He thumps a fist on her desk. She doesn’t flinch. There is a small silence. “So it’s like that, huh? 

Zorada stares back at him; defiant. In turn disdainful of him. Then she says, “I did my job. I did my job the way you’ve always needed me to do it.  _ “Make the executive decision, Zorada.”  _ She’s mimicking him, sneering at him.  _ “Don’t expect me to spell out every little thing I want, Zorada.” _ So this is the job. What you’ve asked me to do for 14 years; which is to protect you and your interests against everything real or imagined that could come your way and that’s what I did.”

Her voice had been getting louder as she goes and Zorada now makes an attempt to bring it under control, “And don’t pretend you don’t need protecting from her. Because when you were running around with her and cleaning up bodies for her and getting shot for your trouble, you knew why you weren’t telling me about it. You  _ knew  _ you were doing the kind of stupid that I haven’t seen you do in 14 years. Mixing your personal life and business; so don’t you come here and tell me about me stepping into your personal life.”

She sucks in a breath and rushes on. Rio wants to tell her to take another breath; she almost looks blue in the face. And he came here to rake her over the coals but now it looks like she’s the one holding his feet to the fire. And she’s flitting between Gretchen and Zorada so it’s really hard to decide if he needs to hit back at her heatedly or be cold but right now she’s all fury and resentment and she’s not letting him get a word in anyway.

She spits out, “In case you forgot, she got you arrested by the FBI. Congratulations for that by the way. Way to keep your personal life out of the business. Getting your dumbass locked up for the pleasure of having her bat her eyes at you. And don’t think I don’t know what you did that night after I got you out. Yeah…the husband lands in hospital after a mugging and dubious story of memory loss in which he can’t remember  _ where _ he was when he got shot; I  _ know _ .” 

Then she steps really close and pushes her face into his and she’s angry enough and tall enough in her heels that she actually manages to make him feel crowded. And Rio is suddenly on the receiving end of the thing he does to people and he finds he doesn’t quite enjoy it this time. And she’s not intimidated by him and he wants to back away from her. 

But he can’t so he stands his ground and grits his teeth and almost interrupts her but she’s not yet said one untrue word and he thinks he can’t get a word in edgewise anyway. “I  _ know _ what you did. Because  _ I _ am not stupid even when  _ you _ want to go and act the fool.”

“And then you went and slept with her. Then you went and got her pregnant. And whatever nonsense you both did, somehow ends up with you blackmailing her and sending her body parts in the mail… _In the mail._ ** _In the mail._** That’s a federal crime, genius. Next thing, you’re lying on a floor with three bullets in you. And she _still_ walked away from you. _She_ ** _still_** _walked away from you._ So don’t you go telling me about my job. I was doing my job. I was protecting you. From the only thing that you _won’t_ or _can’t_ protect yourself from.”

She needs to stop to catch her breath. To contain herself. To get her rage under control. She can’t quite. “And that woman, that woman tried to tear down your little  _ kingdom _ . And she’s going to tear you down. And even now she’s getting your boys in jail; wasn’t too long ago that I had to leave a partnership meeting to go bail out your bromance, Mick.”

Rio thinks he’s had enough. “And that’s on **_me_**! _Your_ **_job_** is to deal with the business end of things.”

“Don’t presume to tell me what my  _ job _ is. Because with you, the business and the personal is all one thing. There’s no business end separate from the personal stuff. It’s all one big ugly mess. And she made it that way. And she’ll continue to make it that way. Because you let her. Because you yourself can’t keep your brain separate from your…” she wants to say penis. But she manages to catch herself. She knows he gets it. 

Her voice twists. Fury. Underlain with something else; something that he would recognize as pain and misery and hurt if she weren’t talking so fast telling him all the hard home truths that he’s been trying to hide from; if she weren’t speaking so quick that he could only focus on the words and not the pain beneath them. 

“And you disappeared, Chris. And I had to deal with the fall out. I had to pick up the pieces.  **All the pieces** falling all over the place. Because everyone was a fuckin’ mess. And Mick was torn up and guilty and afraid when he showed up at my door in the night; saying you disappeared and he thinks maybe you’re dead. And he was going to go beat down her door and demand she tell him what she knew. How do you think that would have ended, huh? And I was stupid enough to talk him down because I thought  _ you  _ wouldn’t be stupid enough to get yourself dead from her. But Mick knew. Mick knew who had all the answers. Because he knew who was making you stupid, Chris.” 

She’s barely even breathing; just yelling as quiet as she can. “And she shot you.  _ She shot you.  _ **_She shot you!_ ** You nearly died. She nearly took you away from Marcus. And Marcus would have grown up without a dad. And he couldn’t sleep. And Rhea used to cry every time I had lunch with her, Chris. She’d cry for a minute and then dry her eyes and pretend for the world and Marcus that everything was peachy.”

“And I had to sit there and pretend I didn’t know what I knew from Mick about you probably being dead because of some woman. Because I couldn’t tell her, Chris. I couldn’t tell her because she would have been destroyed. You were willing to get yourself killed for  _ her _ and leave your kid and Rhea and let the business take you away from them because you couldn’t keep your goddamn head on straight. Couldn’t keep your personal life away from the business.”

Gretchen/ Zorada is so angry that she’s shaking, “And I couldn’t tell her, Chris. Because as long as she was crying, she still loved you and I didn’t want her to hate you. Or the memory of you. Or blame you or think less of you. So I sat there, trying not to think less of you  _ myself _ . I sat there and pretended I didn’t know what I knew for three hours every Tuesday for the two months you were missing.” 

Rio’s thoughts intrude.  _ Tuesday. Tuesday; that used to be my time, Gretch, _ he wants to tell her. And it’s something like hurt and betrayal that he tastes in his thoughts,  _ Tuesdays were mine, Gretchen. For tennis and lunch. And you gave them away, Gretch. Like you didn’t think I’d ever come back. Without seeing a body, Gretchen, you just figured I was dead and you moved on from me and you gave out my time. You gave up on me when I was still out there, Gretchen. You gave up on me. How the fuck could you?  _

Gretchen/Zorada still hasn’t run out of steam. She rages on at Rio, “And because I couldn’t tell her, I never found out that the _friend_ she had made was the woman who shot you. _The woman who shot you!_ **_The woman who shot you_** was pretending to be friends with Rhea and spending time with Marcus and making him snacks and pretending to care about him. Do you know how twisted that is? Do you?” 

Gretchen/Zorada looks tired and breathless. But she’s had enough; someone has to tell him the truth for a change and she thinks he won’t hear it if it’s coming from anyone else. “And now I still have to sit there every Tuesday and pretend that I didn’t know about her when I did. And that I don’t know she is pregnant. And I have to listen to the betrayal in Rhea’s voice when she talks about her; and I have to pretend I don’t know anything because I can’t tell her what I know. Because she would hate me and hate you and hate herself.”

Rio’s thoughts intrude again. He knows Gretchen didn’t just give away his time; he’s sorry for thinking it in the first place. Because she didn’t give his times slot away to another client.  _ Zorada _ might have wanted to give his time to a client but Gretchen never would. So instead, Gretchen gave Tuesdays to Rhea and Marcus. 

And now that he’s back, she’s given Rio Wednesday too. He bites his lip; he feels… he wants to say sorry. But that’s the thing though, this is all because of Elizabeth and he’s many things about her –angry, hurt, betrayed, uncertain, anxious, recently sometimes happy- but he’s not  _ sorry. _ He  _ is _ sorry for the  _ messes _ he made because of her. But he’s not sorry  _ about  _ **_her_ ** . 

The quiet yelling still hasn’t stopped. “And now you’re telling me she kept the baby. And I’m glad she did because I can throw out one piece of the baggage I’ve been carrying because of you. But it also means there’s one more thing you haven’t told Rhea. And tomorrow is Tuesday and I have to sit there again. And I know what I know now. And I can’t tell my friend. Because of you. And  _ you _ can’t separate the business from the personal stuff. So I can’t either. And how dare you try to put that on me when you created the mess. And I’m tired. I’m so tired of your damn mess.”

Rio finds himself thinking about the Elizabeth and the STOP sign. “I’m just so tired.”

“So yeah, you don’t need my bitch-ass drama? Maybe I don’t need  _ your _ bitch-ass drama in my law firm. God knows my life would be easier without it so there’s the door, Chris. There’s the door if you think I’m the one that needs you.” 

He stands still. And maybe if she had said all these things as Gretchen, said them without that look of disdain on her face; if she had, Rio would have heard it. Heard the pain and the sadness and the misery and betrayal under the fury. But all he can see is her beautiful face with that look of contempt for him. And it makes him feel small and guilty and stupid. And so he can’t see her misery. 

Then she says quietly and as though she feels nothing but disappointment, “At the end of the day, you keep choosing her. You keep choosing her and what she wants and what she needs over everything else. And Marcus is not mine. But I was there, Chris. For when he couldn’t sleep. And all he would do was cry. Because he was afraid you’d been gone so long you’d never come back.”

Rio swallows. He thinks he can taste tears at the back of his throat. He didn’t come prepared for this. “You think I don’t know about Marcus? You think I don’t know that?” 

And suddenly he’s angry again. “Fuck!” but he knows he’s not mad at Gretchen/ Zorada; he still can’t decide who this is in front of him. He’s mad at himself.  _ He’s mad at himself. _ Yeah… That feels right. He’s mad at himself. And he thinks he knows now that all the other rage has really just been him misdirecting his guilt at other people. He can’t assuage his guilt any longer. Because Gretchen/ Zorada, whoever she is right now, won’t let him. She’s just read him the riot act like no one else can. Not even Mick. 

He remembers the night when he had drunk his way to the bottom of a bottle of Bourbon trying to outrun his fears and Mick had kept him company. Mick had come in late to the bar and told him Zorada was furious at having to get Mick out of lock-up after Elizabeth put him there. Rio remembers laughing smugly and telling Mick, 

“Zorada? No worries, Mick. I can take her. Easy!” 

Maybe that’s not true anymore. Maybe it never was. 

Rio has the realization that it’s because she’s not afraid of him. She’s not afraid of him and never has been. And how is she not despite all the things she knows about him?  _ 14 years of history, that’s why. _

His mind drifts back to that Night.

**چوچو**


	35. Then & All of Her Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rio thinks back 14 years ago to when he met Gretchen.
> 
> Then he tells Gretchen about Elizabeth and what Zorada now owes to Elizabeth.

**_Then & All of Her Pieces_ **

**_Then_ **

Rio thinks he knows exactly why she’s never been afraid of him; it’s because of that Night. That Night when he had been walking home from Mick’s place at 3 am in the night, four drinks in and feeling just slightly buzzed from them. So he had strolled on in the dark streets; hands shoved deep in his pockets listening to the silence of a city asleep. He’s barely gone two blocks when he heard it; a car driving too fast with no lights on. Then he saw her. 

There she was -on that street fourteen years ago- whimpering and bloodied and half-concussed and running down the middle of the street barefoot with a broken arm and collar-bone at 3 am. Rio saved her life… He didn’t realise what he was doing when he did it; it all just happened so fast. He saw her; barely had any time to think; he reacted on instinct and snatched her up to safety. 

And in snatching her out of the way of the car barreling down at her, he got clipped instead… Then with his beautiful face scraped and bleeding, he shot the guy who had been trying to run her down… Then he made one phone call to Mick… then he took her to hospital… then sat outside for hours with cuts and bruises on his face while she was in surgery… then called her mum for her when she came to… then came to see her every day for two weeks… then sat in coffee-shops and restaurants with her twice every week after her physiotherapy sessions and dropped her off afterwards at the law firm where she was a junior associate. 

Then one evening on her birthday, seven months after she met him, Gretchen finally plucked up the courage to ask him what happened to the body of the guy who shot her and why the cops had never found him or his car… and he just looked at her. And looked at her. Looked at her like he could see something no one else could. And like he wanted her to see him. 

And Gretchen knew he’d killed for her once and would again if she ever needed him to. And no one would ever find the body. And he had never once told her not to tell the cops about him shooting the guy but she never breathed a word of it to anyone. Not even her mother. Just said she didn’t remember much from that night even though she did. And how could she ever forget what Rio had done. And now it’s just one of a hundred things about him that she will take with her to her grave. 

So she had kissed him and just that one time, she had let herself believe he almost loved her and they had had sex and it hadn’t felt like nothing. Hadn’t felt like _just_ sex. Because even in his hungry eyes, something had been soft and sweet. But in the morning when she woke up he was gone. And on her nightstand, was a jewelry box and inside it, a keychain on which hung a medallion of St. Ivo of Kermatin. And lasered into the back of the silver were the words, 

_Gretchen,_

_A lawyer and not a thief,_

_A wonderful thing for the people to set eyes on._

And she had looked it up and found that those same words were etched on the tomb of St. Ivo, advocate of the poor, patron saint of Lawyers; _St Ivo was a Breton, A lawyer and not a thief, A wonderful thing for the people to set eyes on._

And under the medallion was a small note in an awful scrawl that took her a couple of minutes to decipher; 

_Be my lawyer, Zorada._

_Say yes._

And she had made an odd sound, something between a moan and a gasp at the strange way he had asked for her services and his unexpected choice of words; _Be my lawyer, Zorada. Say yes._ So oddly reminiscent of those age-old words, _Be my wife, Zorada. Say yes._

And for a moment she had told herself there was no meaning behind those specific words. But in her heart she had known why Rio did what he did. It was as close to a proposal as she would ever get with him; _Be my lawyer, Zorada. Say yes._ He wanted her forever; _as his lawyer._ Just his lawyer. And if she said yes, it was to a lifelong commitment. There would be no quitting on him. 

And she knew who he was. And what he was capable of. And how deadly he was. And what he had already done. But she thought he had already paid for her in blood and she would never have to be afraid of him. He was no danger to her. He had bought her life and safety in blood and he would keep her that way; alive and safe. 

And now that blood had just become her retainer.

So she had looked up from her cup as they had coffee the following week and said one word to him, _“Yes”_ and he for a moment he just looked at her. And looked at her. Looked at her like he could see something no one else could. And like he wanted her to see him. 

Then they just moved on and talked about other things and never talked about the night that something in his eyes had been hungry and soft and sweet and the morning that a medallion had replaced his warm body.

And suddenly she became two people to him. From the day she said _Yes_ , he just kept calling her Zorada. Never Gretchen. Except when they were having a heart-to-heart. Zorada every day. Gretchen when feelings were on the line. As though she was two separate people in his mind; and she thinks maybe she always was and he had seen it. Or maybe she had just turned into the two separate people he saw and needed her to be for him.

Then they each found success at their chosen careers; and they joined the club where his father had once been and her mum still was a member. And they swapped out coffee and cake for tennis and lunch and just kept on playing for nine years. 

And that medallion still hangs on her keys and she would sooner die than lose it… _or him,_ she thinks. But she’s just shown him the door. And he looks unhappy so she sighs and turns into Gretchen. Turns into Gretchen like she never does in this office. 

She sits. He doesn’t. She looks up at him and waits for him to talk. And she keeps Gretchen on her face and prays he doesn’t close himself off and turn her back into Zorada. And she catches herself thinking that she knows him as separate people too. But her boundaries of where one starts and the other begins are not always clear. Still, there are vague outlines that she generally stays within. Christopher; corporate client… Chris; friend, tennis partner… Rio…

Rio; whose secrets she will take to her grave. 

Rio; whose interests she will protect as her own. 

Rio; who was in her bed that one night and will never be again. 

Rio; who bought her life and loyalty in blood. 

Rio; _Him_.

  
  
  


**_All Of Her Pieces_ **

**Rio:** _You and me, got ourselves a problem_

_I can see this, better than I can solve em_

_I believed, I found a way around it_

_I will leave this better than I found it_

_History’s a letter made of scarlet_

_Victories look better when you’ve called it_

_Misery’s the moment when I lost you_

_It’s pleasure in a costume_

_It’s more than what it costs_

_There’s too much smoke to see it_

_There’s too much broke to feel this_

**_Yet, I love you, I love you_ **

**_And all of your pieces_ **

**_All of your pieces_ **

**Mood Music Credit: All of your pieces** by **Andrew Belle**

And she doesn’t know which version of him she’s talking to but she hopes it’s Rio who speaks. He does. 

“Gretchen, all that may be true but the fact remains, you went to her and talked to her and you told her whatever you told her and made her believe that you were speaking for me and that I didn’t want the baby. And I would have had to live without that baby inside her. And that baby is as much mine as Marcus is mine. You nearly killed my kid, Gretchen.”

He pauses, covers his mouth with his hand, rubs his jaw as though in bewilderment and though his voice is very quiet, she flinches when he says,

“How the fuck, Gretchen, did you think I’d be okay with that? With you making that decision for me?”

They stare at each other. She flushes. Then her spine stiffens and she can feel herself start to shift back to Zorada. 

And then he’s still Rio but he’s angry again. “Goddamn the women in my life. You’re all so much fuckin’ trouble,” he explodes. 

She’s not entirely surprised. His emotions have been a bit out of whack since he came back. As though he’s walking a low tightrope above the turbulent waters of his emotions and sometimes, he slips and falls in and then he’s trying to fight his way back onto that tightrope. Gretchen thinks she is starting to understand; he’s tired. And he needs to put his head down someplace safe and just sleep.

_Good Lord! How do you sleep, Rio. When was the last time you actually really slept, Rio?_ Because she hardly sleeps when he needs her services. She gets anxious and dreams vivid dreams of gangsters and criminals out to get her and as she runs and runs she keeps looking for Rio and for the while when he was missing, she would dream those dreams but she couldn’t ever find Rio and she was almost afraid to go to sleep until the day the phone rang and his voice was just there on the phone. 

And so she’s been sleeping for the last two months and he looks like he hasn’t slept for months. But right before he walked in here, she had seen him through the glass walls and he had looked just as alive as ever. Now he just looks angry. And tired. 

“Why do you hate her so much, Gretchen?”

She sputters and two thoughts spill out of her with barely any space between them. Had she had two mouths, the words would have been spoken simultaneously, “Have you not heard a word I said?” and “Why do you care about her so much.”

“Did _you_ not hear a word _I_ said? She’s got my baby in her, Gretchen.” 

“Before, Rio…” her hand is up, palm out to him; that universal emblem meaning stop. He does and for a moment, he again sees Elizabeth under that STOP sign. Gretchen repeats, “Before the baby, Rio. Explain it” 

He puts his hands on the back of the chair in front of her desk and leans over it looking down at the seat with unseeing eyes. _You’re tired,_ she thinks.

Then still leaning forward, he turns his head to meet her eyes, “I don’t know. I can’t… I can’t explain it.”

She won’t let him off the hook that easy. She looks steadily back but not unkindly and says again, “Explain it.”

“There’s something about her… something different, that I can’t put in words.”

Gretchen is unimpressed. “Try harder. Because maybe I think you’re thinking with your dick.”

He blinks. In all the years he’s known her, he’s never heard her use that word. And it’s because she’s got Gretchen on her face that he admits what he does,

“Yeah… at the beginning. At the very beginning. But not now, Gretchen. And not for a long time since before she shot me, okay. I just… feel.”

He keeps quiet and she has to work hard to keep the surprise off her face. 

_“I just… feel.”_ She doesn’t think she’s ever heard anyone say anything that stirring before; _He just feels._ She understands that trying to put in words exactly what he feels would be a detraction from the profundity of what he just said; _“I just… feel.”_

Rio sees her blank face; misreads it as incomprehension. He wants to tell her so that she understands what he normally doesn’t want to or can’t say even to himself. When he is with Elizabeth, he feels everything… more. More pain. More happiness. More sadness. More anxiety. More anger. More jealousy. More possessiveness. More lust. More want. More need. More love. More… everything. _More everything._ **_More_ ** _._

More everything except hate. That’s the only feeling he doesn’t feel with her. And how odd it is. How strange, when that feeling would be so justifiable.

_“I just… feel.”_

“Rio, she nearly destroyed you and everything you have.”

“And now she’s building it back.”

“What does that mean?”

Rio drops into her couch. “You still my lawyer or you still want my bitch-ass drama out your office.”

She chuckles then says, “I’m your friend.” 

He shakes his head. “I don’t tell my friends my business, Gretchen.”

She stares at him, “I thought you fired me.”

“I thought you kicked me out of your office,” he fires back.

“And yet here you’re still are.” They both chuckle.

“Here I still am.” He sounds like he’s simply thinking out loud but she answers him, “So am I, Rio. I said _“yes”_ remember.” 

He gulps. They’ve never talked about that Time in their lives. About any of it. About him killing someone for her. Or about the sex. Or about the meaning of those words, _Be my lawyer, Zorada. Say yes._ About her being in this with him for life. She sees the eagle shift and shift. 

“Here’s a retainer, Zorada.” He tosses her a fifty dollar bill. 

She shakes her head, looks vaguely disgusted at him. “Your first retainer stands. Your money is no good here today.”

He laughs, “I know. But truer words were never spoken.”

“What?” she doesn’t follow.

“That my money is no good here today.” Still her expression is one of confusion. “Look at it, Zorada.”

She does. She looks closer. Holds it to the light. Then she asks, “What? It’s money. So what? I don’t get it.”

He starts to talk, falters, then he says something he has never said in fourteen years, “Gretchen… Aaaaargh! Maybe I need to tell my friend my business after all.”

She understands so she nods. “I’m your friend. Your lawyer. Everything you need right now is okay.” She sees the eagle shift and shift.

Then Rio says, “I’m not telling you her business, okay. I’m telling you my business. So what I say can sink her but it will also take me down. So Gretchen, I really mean it that if you need a retainer right now, you had better tell me.”

“You paid that fourteen years ago. It stands.”

He is speaking carefully now. Watching his words. Putting everything in the past tense. Putting himself right in the middle of things. “She made that for me… in the past. And yes, I made her do it. So she goes down, I go down. She made that, Zorada.”

“She is your chef?”

“I’m not telling you what she is doing _now_. But anything she’s done, it would still be because I made her do it while literally holding her at gunpoint. And I will confess to that before I let her go down for it.”

“Come on, Rio. How many things do I know about you? And you know nothing can get them out of me. Since when did you start not trusting me.”

“You don’t like her. So I’m trying to tell you that there is no daylight between me and her. I need you to understand that what she ever goes down for, I’ll be right there with her.”

“Point taken,” Gretchen responds.

“She learnt to do that in her kitchen, Gretchen. In her fuckin’ kitchen where she makes cookies for her kids.” He grins; there’s a hint of pride in it. 

“And I know you don’t like her but I’ll tell you this for free, if you think you know her; you don’t. If you think you met her; you haven’t. If you think you saw her when you went down to that print shop, and she was standing there being sweet in a little name ID that says _Beth_ ; you didn’t see anything…”

He continues, “At best she only let you see a piece of her. Even **_I_ ** still see pieces. Still just **_pieces_ **. And just when I think I finally see all of her, I blink and there’s another piece I didn’t see before. And that’s kind of her superpower. You don’t see her. You don’t see her until she’s already taking what she wants from you. And it’s too fuckin’ late then.” 

She clocks the way he says _Beth;_ almost with amusement or derision. Like he doesn’t see her as _Beth_ . Then she remembers, he always calls her _Elizabeth_. 

“That what happened to you? You didn’t see her coming?” Gretchen laughs.

Rio chuckles too but he is deathly serious when he says, “Oh, I saw her, alright. I saw her. Right from the very first time I laid eyes on her. Then I never stopped looking and there’s always something else to see.”

She starts to roll her eyes but stops because he stands and takes her keys from a small tray next on her desk. He drops back onto the couch. Then he keeps talking and there’s something earnest in his voice and painful for her to listen to, “I saw her because she’s me, Gretchen.” He is staring at the keys in his hand and flicks the silver medallion a few times. On one side, in embossed relief is the image of St. Ivo; on the back, those cherished words on which she’s built her practice;

_Gretchen, A lawyer and not a thief, A wonderful thing for the people to set eyes on._

Then he looks up at her, looks her full in the face and says “She’s me. She’s simply the other side of the coin, Gretchen. We’re the same coin.”

Zorada freezes and holds her breath. Because the look on Rio’s face is something she’s never seen before. On anyone. She wants to say exhaustion. But that’s not quite it. He holds his head in his hand. Grasps his forehead in his hand as though his head hurts, and leans his elbow on his knee.

“We’re the same damn coin, Gretchen. And it feels like we’ve been fighting so long. And some days I’m just really tired. And it feels like I’m fighting myself. And like I can’t stop. I have to keep doing it. And every fight I win against her, I feel like I’ve lost. Like I’m losing something else. Every time that I win, somehow I’m losing yet again. But I can’t stop. Can’t just _lose_ , you know. And now she’s having my baby and everything else is just so exhausting but the baby…” 

He swallows and bites his lip, takes a shuddering breath. “… I’m so scared, Gretch. But I’m so happy. She’s having my baby, Gretchen. And I just think that that baby is the one thing we’re both winning together.” 

Rio’s mouth twists. He hates how he’s feeling. He hates that he has to tell Gretchen what he’s feeling. He just needs her to… to understand. He hates that he cares if she does. He meets her eyes. It’s Gretchen; yeah… he can tell her. She’ll understand.

“She makes me _feel_ even when she’s destroying me. And she’s me. So if you saw me and gave me a chance, I think you can give her a chance too. Don’t hate her.”

The words come to her when he stops talking. Anguish. Submission. Loss. Defeat. 

As though in saying those words out loud, in speaking them into existence, he has lost yet another thing. Like he’s still somehow losing to Elizabeth even now.

There’s a silence. It stretches… on… and on… and on… Rio closes his eyes and she thinks, _You look so tired._

So she repays his confidence by showing him her remorse. “It was a misunderstanding, Rio. I thought that’s why you kept me in the loop. And then after a couple of days you sent me that email telling me she decided not to keep it. And I tried to be cold about it but something in me felt guilty. But I just kept telling myself that’s what you wanted from me anyway; that that was why you told me.”

Rio starts to say something. “But at some point you reali…” She nods and interrupts him. She knows what he’s asking. 

“I did. I realized later that it couldn’t have been what you meant; you couldn’t have wanted that. I was talking to Rhea and she said something about you being devastated when she refused to let you see Marcus. But then Elizabeth had already decided not to keep it so… I guess I thought why bring it up?” 

He huffs out a breath. Rubs a hand down the left side of his jaw; then leans his head on his hand and asks, “Why bring it up? You mess up something that big and you don’t tell me? You tell her not to keep it and then you realise that I wanted it and you don’t tell me?”

Gretchen swallows and fidgets with her hands. She knows what she’s about to say is not going to fly with Rio. Still, she says it, “I don’t know… I told myself you two must have talked; that she must have told you. That you already knew from her.” 

It _doesn’t_ fly. “Why, Gretchen? Why would you expect me to know from _her_ when you were the one who made it happen?” She bites her lip. She knows she was wrong; knows she was a coward. 

He continues, “I’ve been trusting you for so long, I would have trusted you with my life. With everything about me… and it almost cost me my baby. You know Rhea left me to keep Marcus safe. I’m not losing her; I’m not losing Elizabeth. I’m not losing this baby too.” 

_I would have trusted you with my life._ ** _Would have._** In the past. Not now. Gretchen winces.

“Rio…” He stops her. Shakes his head.

“No, Gretchen. Just no. Might just be a pregnancy to you but let me spell it out for you; what do you think I would do to a person who cost me Marcus? A person who took Marcus from me?” Gretchen blanches. Goes absolutely white. 

“Yeah, Gretchen… What I did for you that night… a million times over. You nearly took my baby from me. The only reason we’re still talking, is that Elizabeth is still pregnant. She’s the reason you’re still here to have this conversation. So I’d say you owe her.” 

His next words are said in such a matter-of-fact tone that they send a chill down her spine. “And Gretchen, only two people know that that baby in her is mine; you and Mick. So if anything from my world, from the business end of things tries to come at me through her and the baby, it’s going to be because you or Mick talked and word got around. And then someone will disappear… and I ain’t killing Mick, Gretchen.”

She looks ghostly now. “Are you threatening me, Rio?”

“I’m telling you because you’re my friend, Gretch, that I will kill anything that even so much as _thinks_ of trying to come at me through her or the baby. Now you tell me whether that sounds like a threat specific to _you_ , Gretchen.” 

She shivers. A small silence falls between them. Then Gretchen says, “Sometimes I forget how scary you are.”

He smiles at her; there’s something soft about it; something that reminds her of that night so long ago when he was in her bed. “Never to you, Gretch. Never to you and you know what I would do for you. And I know what you would do for me.”

She nods. She’ll never say it out loud because she would be afraid of when he would hold her to it, but in her head she’s thinking, _Anything._

  
  


Rio glances at his watch and stands. Gretchen rises out of her chair and comes out from behind her desk. He looks at her; tilts his head at her; he can see a question on her face. She squares her shoulders. “Are we…” Her voice trails off.

He steps closer to her. He’s still talking to Gretchen. “Yeah… we’re all good.” She nods; relief is evident on her face.

He runs his hand down her arm then pats her desk twice; an end to their heart-to-heart. She depresses the button on her desk and they can see the junior associates slogging away at boxes of paperwork in the conference room across the hall. 

Rio sniggers. “Christ, Zorada! Look at them. What would you ever do without my bitch-ass drama to entertain you?” She chuckles. 

“So… Tennis? Usual time Wednesday?”

He nods. “Usual time.” Then he turns away from her and starts to walk out. She walks with him out of the office. 

The words he says next will later come back to haunt him. But Rio doesn’t know it when he says them. He pauses in the hallway, looks down at her and his tone is light and casual even as he says,

“Zorada, you gotta separate the business end of things from the personal, yeah? I’ll do the same. And with her a lot of things are personal so…” 

She sniggers, “That’s not an understatement at _aaaaall_.” The sarcasm is clear in her voice. Rio huffs out a small laugh. She continues, “Yes, yes… I will tread lightly.” 

Rio says, “Till the day she calls in what you owe her. Then you bring out the beast inside…and stomp on anything she wants you to.” 

Gretchen nods. She knows; now she owes. Owes him and owes _her_. Gretchen shudders to think what Elizabeth will demand to settle the debt between them. 

She has the satisfaction of getting the last word in; as the elevators close on him, Gretchen snorts and says, “Chris, you look almost _sweet_ in blue.” He opens his mouth. The doors close and the elevator descends.

He mutters under his breath, “You should be fuckin’ glad I was wearing blue today, Gretchen.” 

The sun is warm as he walks to his car. He tosses the jacket in the backseat and pushes up the sleeves of his Henley shirt. _Elizabeth._ He starts the car and pulls into traffic. _I hope you’re home, mama._

**_چوچو_ **

_Oh, all the things_

_Remember all the things we used to do_

_Give in to me_

_Give in to me and I’ll give in to you_

_If you need it_

**_Or if you need to win, then I’ll lose_ **

_It brings me back to you_

_Oh, I don’t wanna think about distance_

_I just wanna be in your existence_

_So give me your electric touch,_

_-_

_Give me your electric touch_

**Mood Music Credit: Electric touch** by **ARIZONA**

  
  



	36. The Lake House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rio steals Elizabeth away and takes her to a very special place. It's satisfying. Several times. 😜
> 
> Thank you, Creamsicle_sunset, for the mood music in this chapter:  
> Blue eyes forever by Charlotte Oc.  
> Love it. Keep the recommendations coming, yeah? 😘😘

**_The Lakehouse _ **

**Beth:** _So what you wanna do,_

_You wanna do with me babe_

_You got me in the mood_

_So what you wanna do now, now, now_

**Rio:** _I’m always looking for an adventure_

_Let’s go somewhere we both haven’t been_

_I need a change of scenery_

_I’m sick of looking at the same old shit_

_Let’s go off the beaten path_

_And get high off a different kind of risk_

  
  


**Brio:** _Don’t care where you’re taking me_

 _As long as you’re taking me_ _off road, off road_

_You’re taking me off road_

**Mood Music Credit: Offroad** by **Skylar Grey**

“Hey, now.” Rio comes up around the tree and she has a moment of déjà vu. Elizabeth remembers him coming round that same tree a few days after she told him that she was pregnant. The day he took her to the obstetrician and demanded an ultrasound scan because he thought she was lying to him about being pregnant. 

Now watching him come round that tree, Elizabeth hates him a little; he’s got no business looking the way he does. Looking as good as he does. He has taken off the blue denim jacket; it’s a warm day. She can see it in the backseat of his car and now he is in a black Henley, sleeves pushed up to slightly below his elbows. It bares his lean sinewy forearms _._ And shows off those three leather thong bracelets on his right wrist and leather ring on his index finger which contrast so sharply with the sleek Omega Speedmaster watch on his left wrist. _Good lord, why would his arms turn me on?_ She doesn’t have an answer to that.

And she doesn’t believe it even as she tries to explain it to herself. Because the truth is that none of his _things_ matter to her. The one thing that turns her on about him is just his raw sexiness. That something manly and confident and dangerous and intelligent and hungry about him that makes her body want to throw itself at him; _Sexiness._ _Sex on legs. Jesus!_

  
  


She wonders why Rio doesn’t wear colours more often; his caramel skin really did look amazing in the blue denim jacket. _Right! Black; that’s his gangsta getup. And now he is back in it._ The thought amuses her. _Okay, so he looks really good in black too._

The Henley cut of the shirt draws the eye to his neck tattoo and again, she has a sudden urge to go up on her toes and nip the little spot below his ear, just below the tip of the eagle’s wings. She remembers the sound he makes; an odd, breathless sound between a groan and a whimper; and that sound is such a turn-on for her for being so rough yet so vulnerable all at once. 

“How you feeling, mama?” There it is again; déjà vu. 

“I’m okay.” She doesn’t know why she suddenly smiles. So maybe she’s happy. 

“Yeah?” Rio walks up the flagstones towards her; tilts his head at her. He stops when he’s just out of reach and shoves his hands in the front of his jeans. She nods. 

“How’s baby?” he asks and something about his question makes her skin tingle. Maybe it’s because he is looking at her like he could eat her; maybe it’s because his voice is low and husky; maybe it’s because he asked “how’s baby?” not “how’s the baby?” Somehow she thinks there’s a world of difference between the two and the one he just said just made her shiver. 

She blushes. Rio follows the blush down her neck and to her breasts; as though he could almost see through her sweater; as though she were naked before him. She blushes again. Deeper. Redder. Her nipples harden. She prays he can’t see them but she worries that maybe he can because she’s wearing one of her new lace bras and the lace is filmy and light. He licks his lower lip then bites it. Rio’s eyes are hooded; _as though he is thinking of undressing me._

He _is_ thinking about undressing her. It’s been all he can think about since he found out she’s still having his baby. It’s all he can think about; taking off her clothes and seeing the bump on her belly; his bun in the oven.

It’s been all he can think about; how she’d sobbed out Rio… Rio… Rio… over and over in his ear when he hit it after she told him three nights ago. It’s been all he can think about; the relief in her voice as he thrust back into her as she climaxed; like she needed him to fill her hunger and sate it; like without him inside her, she would cum but still she’d be hungry and unsatisfied. 

It’s been all he can think about; her riding him while wearing those pearls and looking over her shoulder back at him; him watching her arch her back from how good he was hitting it; her strawberry curls by turns hiding and revealing those pearls on her neck; that fuckin’ string of pearls that started them on this rollercoaster they’ve been on, bouncing on her neck when he thrust hard in her.

It’s been all he can think of; how he had pushed her forward onto her knees and then fucked slow into her till she cried and begged for more of him; how he had folded himself over her as she bent over on all fours, pearl necklace dangling on her neck; his left hand filled with her left tit and his right around his bun. 

And _Christ!_ It’s been all he can think of; how he had put a pillow under her hips and pushed her down so her back sloped down to where her face rested on another pillow. She had turned to look at him over her shoulder and smiled at him and something about that smile had made him go all weak inside and he had softened and slowed his thrusts and she had protested but he had fucked her really sweetly and gone even slower and more gentle and held her hip with one hand and twined the fingers of his left hand with hers. 

And she had come for him to his hoarse command, with his right hand twisting the pearl necklace tighter around her neck and his other hand in hers; with her watching him watch her face. 

And somewhere between yelling at her that they were done if she walked out the door and bringing her to a whimpering climax with her left hand in his, he had started to feel like he wasn’t fucking her; like he wasn’t hitting it; like maybe he was more than a little bit making loving to her. 

  
  


And now Rio is thinking of doing that again as he stands in the mid-morning sunshine but he doesn’t really want to hit it in her bed today; the bed where fuckin’ carman still sleeps beside her. Although, if Carman saw the note yesterday, Rio doubts Carman has managed to sleep at all. Rio bites off a small grin; _Oh, yeah._ He likes sticking it to Carman. He can’t explain why; but Rio has despised Carman since seeing that photo of him on Elizabeth’s dresser. 

Rio can’t help but remember that when he had told Elizabeth that Carman didn’t look too trustworthy, she hadn’t been upset or annoyed on her husband’s behalf. She hadn’t attempted to defend him.

And when he had asked if carman was any good at selling cars, she hadn’t said yes; just sounded like she would rather not answer that question. And instinctively, Rio had known that Carman was no fuckin’ good at his job. _Well, more power to me,_ Rio thinks. _Because, holy fuck, now she’s having my baby partly because he sucks as a car salesman._ Rio loves it. 

And now he thinks that it’s about time he had Elizabeth straddled across him in the car and he’s been wanting to eat ice-cream off of her in the backseat of the G-wagon for the longest time. So that’s what he wants to do today if she’ll let him. Rio thinks she will enjoy it. 

“Let’s go get you some air, mama.”

She hesitates. “Um….”

“Say yes, Elizabeth. Say yes, sweetheart.” He smiles at her; tilts his head at her. His nose ring catches the light and glints. Elizabeth swallows a moan; he hears it anyway. She remembers the feel of that nose-ring rubbing on her clitoris as he pushed his tongue between her pussy lips.

Rio half-smiles at her, “It’s just one little word, mama. Say yes.” 

She nods, says it quietly, “Yes.” 

“I’ll just put these away,” she motions with the grocery bags in her hands. He nods. She turns away; _he’ll be in the car,_ she thinks. But he’s taking the grocery bags from her and walking with her to the front door and she’s never done this with him before except that one afternoon when they’d come in to the kitchen and he had leaned on the counter and watched her and asked her what he was doing in her house… then she had taken him into her bedroom and… _I took him into the bedroom and he put his baby in me._

She shivers. 

Suddenly in her mind, Elizabeth has a picture of herself coming home with Rio; of Rio walking beside her carrying a little boy or girl in his arms… _while Dan and Emma and Kenny and Jane and Marcus run on ahead of us._ A shudder courses through her. She unlocks the door. He walks in after her and sets the bags on the kitchen island. 

  
  


Then he peeks inside her grocery bags and apparently doesn’t see what he needs because he opens the fridge and takes out a tub of ice-cream. Vanilla-raspbery ripple. As Rio walks back out to the car, he says over his shoulder, “Ice-cream’s melting, mama. Bring a spoon.” 

She brings two. “Just needed the one, mama. I’ll be eating mine off…” he rakes his gaze down Elizabeth’s body. His eyes linger over her breasts, drift slowly down, and when his eyes fall to her belly, he inhales with a small hiss. Elizabeth whimpers. “Get in the car, Elizabeth.” She does. He likes that she’s changed into a dress.

He drives slow with the windows down and the sunroof open. Her hair blows in the breeze and from time to time he imagines he catches the cherry-blossom scent of it. Then as soon as he thinks he can smell it, the wind snatches it away. 

“You’re so quiet, Elizabeth.” 

She sort of laughs; a strange little twisted sound. So Rio asks, “What?” She only shakes her head at him. 

“Come on, mama. That’s what car rides are for, right? Best place to talk. You can say anything.”

She thinks about that for a moment. She knows what he means; somehow she’s always found it easier to share confidences in the car; something about having your eyes on the road instead of each other; something about there being plenty of distractions on the road to allow one to just let a subject drop if it becomes uninspiring or difficult; something about the way a conversation can trail off into a companionable silence and no one feels resentful that the chat is over… _Yes, that’s one of the best things about car-rides._

So she says, “I don’t know… I guess, I just never seen this side of you…” Rio turns his eyes full on her. She looks at him; doesn’t feel the need to look away. He glances back at the road. _Yes,_ she agrees, _that’s the beauty of conversations in the car._

He knows what she means; she’s only ever seen him in work-mode… or hitting it with her. Today though… today he’s relaxed and happy and he’s only got her on his mind. 

Still, he says, “Yeah? How do you know how I am? You haven’t been my baby-mama before.”

She shrugs a shoulder. “You know what I mean.” Elizabeth remembers what Rhea had said; that even when Rio drops out of their lives for a while, he has always taken care of her and Marcus; has always made sure the money kept coming. 

She wonders if Rio and Rhea had done this; gone on morning drives when Rhea was pregnant with Marcus. And she’s ashamed that she feels jealous; jealous of Rhea who had been nothing but a great friend to her; of Rhea whose trusting nature she had taken advantage of. 

Elizabeth’s jealous because although Dean had done what he could to provide for their family, morning drives to get her some air had never been on the itinerary; never been on the list of things they had ever done when she was pregnant. Dean had always been working… and now she knows; schtupping some woman or other in his office while she cooked and cleaned for him and did soccer-mom duty and attended PTA meetings and been pregnant four times with his kids while he… _Ugh. Not the time to think about Dean._

_“Yeah? how do you know how I am? You haven’t been my baby-mama before,”_

So anyway, now Elizabeth’s jealous of Rhea and she knows it’s stupid and she feels ashamed and she hates herself a little. She wants to die when the words come out but she has to know.

“Yeah? So what is this? Standard baby-mama treatment?” she tries to laugh; to hide the green-eyed monster devouring her… but she can’t. Her little laugh comes out strange; like it’s been wrenched none too gently from her. 

A small silence falls between them during which Elizabeth looks steadily out her window. Then Rio’s voice is soft; vaguely teasing but mostly gentle when he says, “Why? You jealous, mama?” He shoots her a quick glance then brings his eyes back to the road. 

She scoffs, “As if.” But still her voice is a curious thing; small and somehow ashamed. So Rio knows; _Yes. Yes, she’s jealous._

He puts his hand on her knee and gives her a small squeeze. She is reminded of feeling like she was falling into him that day when he took her to the obstetrician; her leg had started juddering from anxiety and he had put his hand on her knee and squeezed and her leg had just stopped jittering. She has the same feeling she had had then; the feeling that her body obeys him. Only this time his hand is still running up and down her thigh and she can feel her cunt become slick with want for him. She wants to take off her panties and sit on him and rock… she just wants. _Jesus! How does he do this? How?_

“It’s not standard baby-mama treatment.” He doesn’t check to see if she nods. He doesn’t want to look and see doubt on her face because he already wants to tell her; that he didn’t do any of this with Rhea. That he had already fucked things up with Rhea by the time she found out she was pregnant. And that he didn’t do any daddy duty until after Marcus had already been born. 

And so all of this is new and makes him afraid sometimes but he needs it so bad. And he knows that a part of him is trying to make up for all the things he didn’t do with Rhea. And he’s trying to make up for the lost time with Elizabeth; for those godawful two months he had been disappeared by Turner and the subsequent godawful two months after he came back and been wrathful and hurting from thinking about her not keeping his baby. 

And now Elizabeth is jealous… and that makes him conflicted. Conflicted because on the one hand, he doesn’t want her to be insecure when she’s having his baby but on the other, he very much enjoys knowing she’s feeling possessive over him. And right now he is turned on at the thought of her not wanting to share him. 

Yes, he knows. He’s a fuckin’ child where she’s concerned. If any of the other women he had ever dated had been insecure, he would have felt mildly irritated even as he tried to reassure them. But it would get old really quick. But with Elizabeth… it’s an actual turn-on. 

Rio thinks it’s because she’s left him before; made him feel unwanted; 

She’d invited him to hit it in that bar bathroom –at the memory of her lifting her dress for him and watching him in the mirror, he gets a rush of blood to the head… the wrong head- then she’d just gone back to her husband as though nothing had happened; _as though she were indifferent._

Then she kicked him out of her bed. He’d been sort of gutted. Later, he had been so desperate to hurt her back that he had nearly destroyed them both. But he just hadn’t been able to help himself. Not after how she’d kicked him out and just casually stepped into the shower; _as though she were indifferent._

And then the Night she shot him, she left him dying and apparently just went back to her life as though nothing had happened; _as though she were indifferent._

  
  


So now Rio thinks there’s a part of him that just aches with emptiness and needs to have her need him for it to not hurt. He tries not to think about it but when he does like he’s doing now, he thinks that because he doesn’t really know exactly what she feels for him; and until he hears her say those words three words he thinks he might _never_ hear from her, her jealousy and possessiveness have become the thing he craves from her. Because when she’s jealous or possessive, he knows she’s not indifferent. 

And while she can hide a lot from him, there are three things she can’t; jealousy, anger and lust. They have become the lien which he holds against the day she will finally love him. _Choose_ **_me_ ** _. Need_ **_me_ ** _. Love_ **_me_ ** _._

He drives slowly along the winding roads close by the lake. Then he glances at his watch and speeds up. He’s got a place to be. He’s got a lot he wants to do with her today. 

  
  
  


**Rio:** _call out of work; can’t be bothered_

_It’s all the same_

_Call it absurd; putting you first_

_Drive me insane_

_So what if I’m fucked up falling in love_

_So what if I’m such a sucker for pleasure_

_So what if one night is never enough_

_Drive me insane_

_Don’t stop. T_ _ell me, tell me; D_ _on’t stop._

_We’ve got big plans in bed again_

_Coz you’re no saint_

**_Slipping my hand under your dress_ **

**_I’m glad you_ _came_**

**_Don’t stop._ _Tell me, tell me;_ _Don’t stop._**

_Heaven, is it as wonderful?_

_Heaven, is it as beautiful as you?_

_Is it as wonderful?_

_Heaven, is it as beautiful?_

_As you?_

**Mood Music Credit: Heaven** by **Finneas**

45 minutes later, he turns off Lake Road onto a smaller road marked private. Then he turns off that one onto a gravel track and they’re headed up the gravely incline of a wooded hill. They clear the brow of the hill and she inhales; it’s a beautiful surprise. Here on the hilltop, there are enough trees to afford the place a secluded, secret feeling. But the trees thin out ahead of them allowing them a sweeping view; below them, the sunlight gleams, glints and glitters on the quietly rippling blue water of Lake St. Clair.

He puts the car in park. And then there’s silence. It’s so quiet both inside and outside the car that Elizabeth can hear herself breathe. She has the curious thought that she would like to sit on this hill and never leave again. To just sit here in this secret place where even the birds know to be quiet and forget that the world exists. Because here, in the stillness, she could forget her troubles; could forget that she is married to a husband who is so unseeing of her that he doesn’t see that she is four months pregnant with another man’s child. 

_Another man’s child; Rio._ she glances at him. He’s leaning back in his seat, with his body turned slightly to her; while she was looking at the lake, he was looking at her look at it. Elizabeth doesn’t mean to but she sighs. 

_She sighs;_ Rio listens to that small sound and he wants to reach out and touch her. But he doesn’t. He thinks he knows what she’s feeling. He feels it every time he comes here. An aching, melancholy, a wistfulness for he knows not what. And he hasn’t been here in almost forever.

 _Forever;_ _that’s an awfully long Time,_ Rio thinks. But right now that near-forgotten longing is crowding around him; pulling at him; tugging on his heartstrings. And he thinks that maybe he knows what that wistfulness he’s felt all his life was about; he thinks his heart finally knows what it wants. He thinks it wants forever. _Fuck!_ With her. 

_Her;_ She’s looking out at the water but Rio thinks she’s not really seeing it. Like her sight is turned inwards; and he wonders what she’s thinking about; wonders if she’s thinking or feeling. Wonders what she feels.

 _She feels;_ She just feels. She doesn’t know what that feeling is. But Elizabeth thinks she’s thinking of the kids and how much fun they could have splashing about in the lake. Jane and Kenny would be clamoring to go down to the water already; then demanding to go back into town for some PF Chang’s. Emma and Danny are the ones who would go quiet at the hush of this tucked-away little spot; Mind, Body, Heart, Soul; Jane, Kenny, Emma, Danny. And she feels… she doesn’t know what _she feels._

Elizabeth inhales… starts to exhale. Holds her breath on the sigh that almost left her. She thinks Rio has heard it anyway. She meets his eyes. He smiles and says, “Hey mama.” 

She wants to smile back at him. But she can’t. She’s unexpectedly aware of him; as much as it can be unexpected for _her_ to be aware of _him_. She’s always aware of him. But now, that awareness, that consciousness of his closeness feels like a pulsing solid thing against her skin; like his presence is filling the space in the car and squeezing out all the air. She clears her throat; she knows she’s about to do that thing she’s been wanting to do; take off her panties and go over to his seat and sit astride him and…

The sun shines on her through the open sunroof; it’s pleasant and warm on her skin. She leans back in her seat; watches him watching her; watches the lust play across his face; vanish; flit across his face again, vanish; leak through in the in-drawing of his lower lip, in the hooding over of his eyes, vanish; and show itself again in his restless shifting in his seat. 

There’s something gratifying about knowing how bad he wants her too. 

They just stare at each other. She’s going to crawl into his lap and she’s going to sit on him and she’s going to fuck him hard until she comes. It’ll be quick; she could almost get there just watching him try to hide his desire for her; and he’ll come for her… _in her…_ She whines.

His eyes snap from her eyes to her mouth; he bites his lip. He reaches across the center console; leans over to her, slips his hands just under her hemline. 

“I want to touch you, mama. Can I do that? Do you want me to do that, Elizabeth?” Elizabeth nods at him.

He unbuckles his seatbelt and hers and put his hands on her knees. Then Rio slides them up, just a little beneath her dress. She can’t help herself; her legs part just enough for him to slip his thumbs between her thighs. He rubs little circles on the insides of her thighs. She moans. He does it for the longest time. Then she can’t take it anymore. She wants him and she wants him now. So she pushes his hands away; starts to take off her panties. 

“So impatient, mama.” He smiles at her; like he did that afternoon in her kitchen. Her tummy flip-flops. He pushes _her_ hands away; peels off the black lace panties and puts them in his pocket. 

He grins when she narrows her eyes at him. “Spoils of war,” he chuckles. She thinks of his little wooden box with the electric blue panties and a string of pearls. 

“Come here, mama.” she doesn’t need telling twice. She’s straddled across him and his fingers graze her clitoris and slip between her folds. 

“Aaaaah, mami. You’re so wet…” There’s a hunger in him when he pants against her mouth, “Christ! You’re just so wet!” He knows how good she will feel around his cock. She moans.

“Tell me you want it, mama.” 

“Yes…yes…”

Yes, what, sweetheart?” 

“I want to come for you. I want you to make me…”

Her fingers are unbuttoning his jeans as she talks; he lifts off the seat with her and pushes off his jeans and boxer-briefs and his cock is free; a small bead of pre-cum glistens on it already. She gasps; he rubs the head of it on her, between her lips to the clitoris; he rubs it on her clitoris in a circular motion. She moans; her clitoris feels so hard, so sensitive. Then he slaps that sensitive nub with his cock; she shudders; He does it again; she grabs onto his shoulders; and she’s moaning again; back in between her folds; he pushes only the head of it into her vagina; she wants to push down on his penis; he doesn’t let her; he’s out of her again and smacking her clitoris with it again. She loses control. 

“Rio… Rio… Rio…” There’s an urgency in her voice. She holds his face in her hands. 

He looks up at her. “Yeah, mami?”

“Why do you make me feel so good?” Elizabeth sounds almost distressed.

“Christ, mama! Don’t say things like that. Are you trying to make me come undone?” He pushes into her and thrusts into her twice. He stops. She sees the struggle on his face; the struggle to get his lust back under control. He’s thinking of the melting ice-cream and that he needs to eat it off her real quick before it turns into slush. And for him to do so, he needs her naked and hidden by the dark-tint of the windows in the backseat. 

“Get in the backseat, mama. Go right now.’ she complies. He pushes the passenger seat back; makes the space in the back smaller. It’s counter-intuitive but she’ll be more comfy this way; there’s no space for her to fall off the seat. He pulls the driver’s seat forward as far as it can go. He’s going to need to kneel on the floor of the car to get at her sweet cunt. 

Then he steps out of the car and to the back. He starts taking off her dress almost before he’s’ quite locked the door. He’s making hungry little sounds, “I wanna lick between your thighs, taste every drop of you, mami…get naked, mama. Show me my baby. Let’s get you naked, yeah? I really need you to show me my sweet little baby, okay?”

She moans; long and low and needy like she wants him so bad. It’s his drug. He’s addicted. He yanks off his Henley shirt. She wriggles out her dress.

He swears. “Christ! Mama, your nipples!” They’re blush-coloured; pinker than the pale skin of her full breasts, long and taut and thick. He thinks he doesn’t know how the baby is going to get all that in their mouth. 

_The baby._ It’s still just a small bump; maybe a finger’s breadth more than midway below her belly button. In a coat, she can hide it. But when she’s naked, he can see so clearly that fullness under the softness of her belly. He wonders why he hadn’t seen it the night he had had her at the Arden hotel with him. 

Then Rio remembers that he hadn’t quite had his head screwed on straight that night; first from having to get rid of Yuri and his henchmen. Then later, when he’d still been so cold and discombobulated from killing Yuri, Elizabeth essentially tried to fuck sanity back into him. Only he thinks he ended up going too far the other way. He wants to say, _punch-drunk_ from being fucked so thoroughly. _Fuck-drunk_. 

_The baby. My baby’s in here. Christ!_ Will he ever not get turned on by that? _Nah!_ He knows he’ll still be so into it even when the baby is nearly here. _Fuck!_ He can’t wait to have her all round and heavy. He inhales a hiss. _Where were we? Right; nipples!_

Rio bites the pink bud through the lace; she cries out and grabs the back of his head; holds his mouth to her breasts. He nips her harder; she gives off a small almost-scream; he soothes her with his tongue. Elizabeth locks her naked legs around his hips. He pulls her closer; He is feeling out of control; he wants her so bad… He forces himself to slow down. He takes off her bra; and immediately locks his mouth on one nipple. She rakes her fingernails in his short hair; he hisses. He wants to just get on with it; cave and tap her until she cries mercy. He has to talk himself off the ledge. _Ice-cream._

_Ice-cream._ He gets the tub and the spoon. Then he sits back and tells himself to let himself and her really savour this. So he scoops a small spoonful of the ice-cream and offers her a bite of it. He watches her eat it. savour it; swallow.

He does it again; offers her a bite. She tastes, savours, swallows. 

He does it again; offers her a bite. . She tastes, savours, swallows, licks the corner of _her sweet, lying mouth;_ never sweeter than it is right now. 

He does it again; offers her a bite but once the ice-cream is in _her sweet, sweet lying mouth_ , he kisses her; soft and sweet like she’s the most delicious thing he’s tasted his whole life. And if you asked him, he would say she was.

Again and again, they do it. 

Ice-cream; taste; kiss; savour. 

Ice-cream; taste; kiss; savour. 

Ice-cream; taste; kiss; savour… 

Then Rio’s had quite enough of waiting and he knows how he’s eating the rest of his ice-cream and it’s not from off the spoon or even her mouth. 

He’s got her whole entire body to taste; kiss; savour today. 

So Rio takes a large bite of that cold vanilla-raspberry goodness right from the middle of the tub, and puts his mouth on her nipple; Elizabeth yelps. Her nipple is freezing. That lush bud goes pebble-hard in his mouth but he sucks on it until his mouth and it are warm again. Then he does it again on the other nipple. And again… and again… and again. And each time she inhales sharply then moans softly and rakes her nails on his scalp and lord help him, but he could almost groan at the feel of those nails. She does it again; runs her nails through the short hair on his scalp. The hairs on his arms rise; he’s got goosebumps now. He shivers.

He wants her. He wants her so bad it’s hurting. Later he will ask himself how this is possible; how it is possible for him to shake with want of her when just 3 nights ago after he’s dropped her off at home at 4 am, he had had this languorous, wrecked feeling like he could live without another fuck for the rest of his entire life; he was so tapped out. 

And now he is shaking. _Fuck!_ He is literally shaking. And he doesn’t trust himself to get anywhere near her until he has gotten her there at least once. He thinks maybe he needs to take himself in hand more often. He can’t be letting himself get to this point where he is literally fuckin’ shaking in her arms. _Fuck! What is it about her body that just turns me into a teenage boy? The baby. It’s the baby,_ he tells himself. 

He drizzles ice-cream onto her belly. She hisses from the cold. He kisses her, kisses his bun in the oven, licks up the ice-cream and savours it, savours her. He does it again; pours ice-cream on her belly and chases it with his mouth; kissing and tasting and biting and nipping at her. 

He’s marking her; he likes the little red bruises. He obscures the bruises with more ice-cream then reveals the small red marks with his tongue. He slips his tongue into her navel; she moans again. A trickle of ice-cream runs down her belly to the side; he chases it with his mouth, and then proceeds to eat half a pint between her tits and her belly. 

She’s mewling under him; she wriggles. The seatbelt buckle is digging into the outside of her left thigh. He pulls away; she protests. He pushes the buckle deeper into its retainer, then takes a bite of ice-cream and without preamble, pushes her thighs apart, puts his mouth on her clitoris and sucks gently on it. She whimpers, she moans, her eyes roll back, drift shut. 

Elizabeth puts her hands to his hair; runs her fingers down Rio’s face when he stops to bite more ice-cream from the tub. He does it again and again. 

Ice-cream; his tongue slipping between her folds to probe gently at her vagina. _Fuck! She’s beautiful. Christ! These pink lips; so good._

Ice-cream; Rio licks his way up her labia back to the clitoris. then back between her labia into her vagina. Then he is undone by that cold vanilla-raspberry flavor underlain with something that is warm and sweet in an entirely different way. _You taste so good, mami._ He wants to tell her but his mouth is busy.

And on and on, he goes. And all the while Rio makes these moaning sounds into her cunt; these hungry, soft, almost vulnerable and desperate little noises. As though Elizabeth tastes so good and he has been so hungry for so long and now that he has her, he can’t have enough of her; can’t be too appreciative of how delicious she is.

And those little sounds completely unravel her and soon Elizabeth’s got her hand at the back of his head and pulling his face deeper into her cunt and lifting her hips up to meet his probing tongue. She digs her nails into his arms and cries out when she comes and he knows what’s coming; her thighs around his head and he thinks he’s ready for it but still it surprises him because she holds him locked between her soft thighs and her cunt for a small eternity. Then her legs go slack and fall away and he lifts his head and takes a gulping breath. 

“Rio… Rio…” her voice is a bit pleading. 

Yes, ma… still want more?” She’s nodding at him so he comes up from between her legs and onto the seat next to her. He pulls her into his lap as he pushes his jeans and briefs down to his knees. And she seems relieved to be astride him so he asks, “What’s wrong, ma?”

“Nothing… I’m just happy to move my legs; my thighs were tired. It’s so tight here,” she’s referring to the space in the backseat. She shoves at the offending front seat. 

Then she’s lowering herself down onto his so-hard shaft; he shudders when he first breaches her. And he is pushing his cock deeper into her vagina when she repeats, “it’s a tight fit.” 

Rio laughs; sounds breathless… growls at her. 

“What?” 

Rio grins at her, “Yes, ma. It _is_ a tight fit.” And she knows he’s not talking about the space in the car. She blushes and pulls him closer. Then his eyes drift shut.

Elizabeth stops moving; waits for him to open his eyes. He does and looks up at her. 

“What, ma?” he whispers.

“What, Rio?” 

He growls again in response then, “Such a tight, tight fit, mama,” he moans. She shivers, blushes, shakes her head at him and then smiles down at him with her eyes. _There it is… in her blue eyes. That look that slays the demons inside him._ because while she’s looking at him like that, he forgets to be jealous and rageful and even his need is almost sated. He pushes her hair back with a finger then twists his hand into the hair at the nape of her neck. 

_Christ!_ When did hitting it with her start to feel like it’s something more than just that? When did it start to feel like he can’t separate what his cock is feeling from what his damn heart is feeling? When did he… _Fuck! I think I really actually do love her. Goddamn, Elizabeth. I’m so fucked. Mama, I think maybe I love you._

Then Elizabeth is rocking on him and something about the tight seating has her rubbing against his pelvis like she never has before and she seems really into it because she gasps and moans and holds his face between her hands and she presses her forehead to his forehead and pants and pants next to his mouth. 

So he kisses her and nibbles and tugs on her lips before kissing her deep and rough. She gasps; tries to break the kiss for air. He follows her mouth and in chasing that sweet, lying mouth, Rio thinks he shifts his hips and changes something about the angle of his thrusts. 

Elizabeth loses all control. She cries out; her face twists; her mouth forms the same tiny **_o_** it always does but something is different because she looks a little wild when she digs her nails into his shoulders, stretches out like a bow and shakes in his arms. She comes clenching about him and keening and something happens that has never happened before; she squirts and suddenly she is dripping down his cock and the front of his thighs are wet from her. 

He swears. “Fuck, mami. Did you just…” Rio shudders and groans. He bites his lip. _Fuck!_ Elizabeth collapses onto his shoulder absolutely fucked out. _Cherry blossom._

_Cherry blossom;_ _Fuck!_ He wraps his left arm around her; tangles his right hand in her hair; lifts her head. He kisses her so softly and when he lets his hand slip out of her hair, she simply lays her head back down on his shoulder with her lips brushing against the wings of his tattoo and sighs. She’s wrecked. _Christ!_

_Cherry blossom;_ So he starts to pull out so she can rest but she protests, “Don’t stop. Come for me, Rio. Don’t stop… please don’t.” _Oh, fuck!_ So he’s really slow and gentle as he moves in her and when he comes but she bites his neck and holds him tighter as he spurts into her. She thinks maybe she really does love him; and _Jesus! It’s not just sex anymore, is it?_ And Elizabeth does not know what to do with that thought. So she tries not to think about it and closes her eyes and somehow just drifts off to sleep for a minute or five. 

_Cherry blossom;_ And Rio pulls out but not away and he holds her closer than he has ever held anyone before and thinks that Mick was right. That he, Rio, is so fucked. Because yes, the sex is unbelievable but he only really gives a fuck whether she’s happy or not.

_Cherry blossom;_ And now Rio suddenly is afraid because how could he ever want to be with anyone else when Elizabeth makes him feel so… he wants to say, happy. _I’m happy. Just right this moment, I am happy._

_Cherry blossom;_ And he shivers when the thought really sinks in; that maybe this is the only woman he’ll ever want to be with again in his life. _Maybe this is it. Fuck!_ It’s not what he wants; he hates it. But maybe it’s what he needs; he loves it. Then he hates it some more. _Goddamn Elizabeth._

_Cherry blossom;_ And Rio remembers holding Marcus, and how small and fragile Marcus had felt in his arms. And now Elizabeth is having his baby. _My baby._ She’s having a little boy or a little girl. _Christ! Maybe it’s a little girl._

_Cherry blossom;_ Rio’s chest aches. And he thinks his heart has left his chest and is stuck somewhere between his throat and his mouth. _Goddammit, mama. Maybe you’re my only heaven. I really think you are; your tits and your cunt and your eyes and your so-sweet, goddamn, lying mouth are my fuckin’ heaven._

_Cherry blossom;_ _I am so fucked!_

_Cherry blossom; I am so happy._

_Cherry blossom; It won’t last. Will it?_

_Cherry blossom; It can’t last. Can it?_

_Cherry blossom; Please let it last._

_Cherry blossom; Can it? Will it?_

_Cherry blossom; Christ, that look in her blue eyes!_

_Cherry blossom; Please let it last. I’m so fucked._

_Cherry blossom; I really think maybe I love you, Elizabeth. Fuck!_

_\--_

_My life’s been a riddle; it’s so, so fickle_

_I’m close to letting it go_

_Constant state of confusion; what’s real_

_What’s an illusion?_

_but_

_When we meet in the middle_

_I feel the clarity rise_

_Oh, it moves, straight from your eyes_

_Your blue eyes forever, oh_

_Your blue eyes, forever_

**Mood Music Credit: Blue Eyes Forever** by **Charlotte OC**

  
  
  
  
  
  



	37. The Heaven He Brings // Tattoos and Scars

**_The Heaven he Brings //Tattoos and Scars_ **

**Rio:** _A young kid stepped in from the cold;_

_And he ordered up a drink_

_He said don't look surprised old man_

_I'm older than you think_

_Let me show you my tattoos_

_He said_ **_I got this rose in Memphis_ **

**_Picked this eagle up in Dallas,_ **

_If it gets any worse out there_

_A guy like me hasn't got a prayer_

_\--_

_The old man said you see what these are_

**_Just my ragged old and jagged ordinary scars_ **

_I got this one in Paris in a war 'fore you were born_

_And you know the way I see it,_

_Son, you've been 'round but you're still green_

**_Cause tattoos and scars are different things_ **

  
  
  


**Beth** : _Love’s my religion but he was my faith_

_Something so sacred, so hard to replace_

_Falling for him was like falling from grace_

**_All wrapped in one he was so many sins_ **

_Would have done anything, everything for him_

_And if you ask me I would do it again_

_No need to imagine, ‘cause I know it’s true_

_They say, “All good boys go to heaven”_

**_But bad boys bring heaven to you_ **

_It’s automatic_

_It’s just what they do._

  
  


**Mood Music Credit: Tattoos and scars by Montgomery Gentry**

**Heaven by Julia Michaels**

  
  
  


He drives back down the hill, turns onto yet another road marked private and drives down a gently-sloping circular driveway almost to the water’s edge. The lake house is gaspingly beautiful; a sprawling two-storied white building with a wrap-around patio and French windows opening from every ground-floor room onto the manicured lawn which slopes down to the lake. At the end of the lawn farthest from the water’s edge, is a copse of seemingly old, Japanese autumn cherry trees; in bud but not yet in bloom. Down by the lake where the sloping lawn ends, is a strip of golden sand stretching out on both sides. And beyond it, the sandy-bottomed clear blue water of Lake. St. Clair.

“Come on, mama.” he’s holding her hand in his when he pushes open the front door, calls something in Spanish to the slim, smiling, raven-haired lady in the kitchen. Rio calls her _Tia Helena_ and something about hearing the word _‘tia_ ’ from his mouth is oddly-endearing. Like, is that really his aunt or is that just a politeness? She seems too young to be his aunt. She seems barely six or seven years older than Elizabeth; no more than ten years older than Rio if that. 

Then there’s no time to puzzle over it, because Rio is pulling Elizabeth up that gorgeous curved stairway, “Go on, mama. Run before she comes out here. We need to freshen up.” Again, it’s such an odd thing to hear, that laughing breathless note in his voice like a schoolboy who’s been caught playing hooky for some nookie.

Rio strips and flops onto the bed and tucks his hand behind his head; his eyes are droopy. Like he could take a nap. Elizabeth takes off her shoes and looks up to catch his eyes on her. He tilts his head at her; an invitation she thinks to keep taking off her clothes. She doesn’t take it. Instead, Elizabeth just stands there looking at him and his beautiful body. There’s something so effortlessly handsome and graceful about him; that him just lying there flat on his back with one arm folded behind his head is almost obscene in its sensuality. 

So she just stands there watching him; and it’s as though, the longer she has her eyes on him, the more alert his body becomes; as though his body comes to wakefulness under her gaze. She has a memory of him leaning against her armoire watching her take off her coat and boots. She had felt so self-conscious, so vulnerable then, just taking off her shoes and coat. Yet here he lies, stark naked and beautiful and completely unself-conscious. And the longer she looks at him, the more that animal magnetism in him comes to the surface. 

She gives him the treatment he likes to give her; the same unashamed, unabashed lustfulness in her gaze. She lets her eyes linger on his face. His eyes widen slightly then he blinks, rapidly… and his eyes narrow then hood over. He’s watching her watch him. She licks her lips and instinctively, he does the same. Then he swallows convulsively and she sees his eagle shift and shift. _Good._ Elizabeth tilts her head at him in a strange little reflection of his manner; he bites his lip. She drags her eyes slowly down his neck to his chest and stops. 

A small part of her still freaks out every Time she sees them; sees the scars on his chest. She gulps. Her mind wants to run screaming from the memory of what she did. But she inhales and tries not to let herself slip back into that Night. Rio tilts his head some more. It draws her back to the present. 

Her eyes roam his naked body taking it in; his caramel skin on that white bedspread is to her the **promise of sin;** the sensual threat of something that makes her ache with pleasure; a delicious purgatory before he releases her into that assured **heaven only he can guarantee.**

The ink on the skin of his torso stands out; she wonders how long it takes to acquire that much ink; the tattoos… do they mean something? Are they markers laid down on his skin for times and events long gone; indelibly marked on his skin for all eternity? To help him remember? So he can never forget? Or are they simply relics of a teenage angst? Are they simply acts from an era of rebellion against a cloistered childhood? Were they the idle pastime of an entitled brat; spoilt by over-indulgent parents and with too much money or time on their hands? Or are they carefully-chosen representations of an adult him? Are they; Memories? Secrets? Stories? Horrors? Dreams? Joys? Half-forgotten loves?

  
  


What about his scars? She knows the ones for which she is responsible. The long thin line over his right clavicle, stretching to his shoulder. The three 1-inch surgical scars on the left side of his chest and three similar ones below his ribs. The short jagged scar from the night she stabbed him. _I caused all that hurt._

What about the others? The ones I didn’t cause? What is that jagged line on his left side that stops an inch above the rim of his pelvis? What are those faded lines on the outside of his elbow? What is that thin scar hiding under his beard on the left side of his jaw?

Elizabeth can’t help herself. She drifts closer. She can _feel_ his body come alive; awaken… she can see the wild, hungry thing in him crouch low, start to uncoil itself… and then pause; poised in apparent repose but ready… to pounce, catch its prey, devour it - _devour me_ ; feed itself _–on me;_ sate itself _–with me._ Yet, still… he lies back, seemingly perfectly relaxed but she knows that relaxed appearance is an illusion. He is all hungry, lean, mean predator underneath that sleepy exterior. 

His cock gives him away. It’s hard. So hard. So hard that it’s twitching from between his legs and pointing up towards his abs.

She lets her gaze drift yet lower. His long, leanly-muscled legs seem to go on for days.

And his feet; his feet are... long... smooth... warm... _His feet are warm._ Elizabeth half-smiles; God help her but she can't wait to tuck her feet between his and fall asleep after... She takes a small shaky breath; _after he... after we... After. Jesus! His feet? Now I have a thing for his feet?!_

She stands by the side of the bed. Looking at him. Him looking back at her. He starts to reach for her; she pushes his hands down onto the bed and pins them palm-down beneath hers. He rolls his shoulders, slumps back, watches her with narrowed eyes. So she does the thing she’s wanted to do since the first Time she ever did it for him; fully dressed aside from her panties which he stole from her –thieving jackdaw that he is, she lifts her dress by her hands on each side, pulls it up to reveal her thighs. 

She hears it; that long, ragged intake of breath. She sees it; that half-pout on his face which resolves into an indrawn lower lip. She knows he is remembering the last Time she did that for him; in that bar bathroom where she thinks she let herself feel real, unashamed lust for the first time in more than a decade. That place where he reminded her how deeply, deeply satisfying a man between her thighs could really be.

She sits astride him and takes his penis in her hand. He inhales a short ragged breath. She runs her hand gently up that shaft… all the way to the head of his cock. Then she lowers herself onto it. She holds her dress just high enough that he can see it; can see himself sink into her. She’s still wet from his cum… so when she rocks herself once on him, he is suddenly sheathed in her warm cunt. He closes his eyes…shudders an exhale.

Elizabeth doesn’t move again; just lays her lips on his neck tattoo and kisses him below his ear. She says, “tell me what your tattoo means…” 

He bites off a hiss and then says, “It’s my family name, mama; delAguila. Aguila is Spanish for eagle” She kisses the eagle again. Lifts her hips nearly all the way off him. He starts to hold her hips in place. She smacks his hands, presses them back into the bed. 

  
  


He nods. Elizabeth trails her hands down his neck, rakes her nails gently along his left clavicle to his left shoulder. She traces her thumb over that beautiful rose on his shoulder. Somehow this tattoo seems more delicate, older… more faded in contrast to the sharper lines of his other tattoos. 

She presses her hips down on his cock, kisses the tattoo and says, “tell me.”

His voice is slow, hesitant, “She was my mum, Rosa. She died when I was 11.” He squeezes his eyes shut… but not before she sees it, something that should be a ghost but she knows will never be; because it’s still here after all these years. 

Rio wants to push her off… push Elizabeth away or pull her closer because she’s called it back. Summoned it back into his eyes; that spectral thing that somehow lives on, that undying pain. He hates it; how it hurts; that whimpering love in him, that unceasing loss in his eyes. He hates, _hates,_ it; how he buries it alive in his heart.

He hates how he’s never stopped missing her _;_ hates how he feels right now like he’s 11 again, losing her all over again. He fuckin’ hates it; how he can never talk about her without this _feeling_. He closes his eyes and tries not to feel it. _Move on, Rio._ He can't. His chest aches. His eyes stay closed for a long while.

Elizabeth thinks he’s hiding his eyes to hide his sadness again. 

He is. 

Then his eyes open and he’s looking at her with something else in his eyes; something almost like annoyance. She kisses his mouth then his flower-mother on his shoulder. He holds her closer. She doesn’t push his hands away. And she’s very gentle when grinding on him.

She traces the four black bars on his right arm and makes a startling discovery; on his left arm, where previously only three black bars had been, now there are six. On his right, the same 4 bars remain.

“Tell me,” she bends to kiss his arms but he draws them away. Shakes his head at her. She frowns but he ignores her questioning look. She rocks gently on him and he shudders and says, “Mama…” but still he shakes his head at her. 

She won’t be quelled. ‘Tell me,” Elizabeth insists and winds her waist so Rio breathes out a soft curse.

‘Tell me.” Rio just looks at her. And he looks at her. And looking at his face, suddenly, the thought occurs to her that maybe they each represent someone’s death. And now there are three more on his left arm than there were on the afternoon she kicked him out of her bed. A chill ghosts down her spine and she knows he sees it. 

So Rio rubs his hands down her arms; her arms on which all the little hair follicles are now erect. Goosebumps. Rio knows now she knows. Ten. Ten the number of deaths on his arms. Did he kill all those people? Or were some of them people he loved who died? Either way, he’s not talking. 

“Stay in your little lane, darling.” It’s meant to be light and teasing and it almost is. But there’s a weight to those words that she wouldn’t previously have heard or understood.

And when she starts to open her mouth –she doesn’t know what she wants to say- he takes her left hand and puts it on his right shoulder; on the scars from the bullet she fired into his shoulder. 

“Ask me,” he says. She shakes her head. So he thrusts into her and pulls her closer. 

“Ask me, mama.” She doesn’t want to. Not today. She doesn’t want to remember that Night now. That Night when they’d both been half-mad with jealousy and anger and betrayal and fear. She whispers, “Tell me,” and gulps.

He says, “You.” And he thinks both of their chests may be aching. So he slides her hand along the scar on his clavicle. 

She repeats, “Tell me.” 

He says, “You, Elizabeth.”

She wants to sob. He strokes her arms, fucks into her and moves her hand across to the left side of his chest. To the surgical 3 scars over his chest. She doesn’t wait for him to say “ask me.” 

She just resigns herself to it and asks him, “Tell me.”

He repeats, “You,” and he’s fucking into her again. She wants to stop. She hates this catechism but she thinks she knows why it’s happening. He’s refusing her to hide from it; refusing to hide from it himself. And she started it. She wonders if maybe it’s a little bit of payback for making him tell her about his mum. She hates it.

She touches the three surgical scars on his belly. The ones they used to remove the bullet she put in his spleen. She says before he says it, “Me.” He thrusts hard into her and does the same when she points out the scar from the dagger she tried to kill him with. Still she says, “Me.” 

Elizabeth gulps. Closes her eyes. She thinks she needs to stop. She wants to get off him. Eyes still squeezed shut, she gnaws on her lower lip. 

Rio's voice says, "Come on, ma. You've seen them before. Open." 

She swallows. Tries to compose herself.

He repeats, "Open." It's a demand that won't be denied. Her eyes pop open and the moment they do, he makes a face at her and thrusts hard a couple of times into her. A half-moan escapes her.

"That's what I like to hear. Do it again, mama," he says and so, a few times, he fucks none too gently into her. 

She can't hold back the sound leaving her. He grins.

And just like that, the weight of what she did is not in this bed anymore. And it's just him beneath her again, pulling her hips down onto him again, pushing up into her again. She moans. 

And as far as Rio is concerned, the scars on his body are finished; the rest insignificant beside the reminders of that god-forsaken Night and Rio is dragging the palms of both of her hands down his chest in an I’m-too-sexy-for-my-shirt-so-sexy-it-hurts kind of move. He’s got the facial expression to match; a wicked, wicked grin which ends in his eyes hooding over again. 

Elizabeth looks at him half-quizzically, half-laughingly. His face twists into a smile and Rio says, “You; I’ll never need a tattoo for you, Elizabeth,” but she’s almost certain that the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. She doesn’t dare think about that too hard.

Then his hand is pressed gently to her belly, where their baby is. And he’s smiling fiercely at her and biting his lip. The threat of what’s to come is in the biting of his lower lip when he says, “Me. Me in here… and you. Us in here. Me in you; Fuck, mami.”

Then he’s sitting up and pushing his legs apart and pushing her onto her back between his legs. He gets on his knees and he’s driving into her and saying, “Me, mama. My baby inside you for the next 5 months or so. Do you like that, Elizabeth? Tell me you like it, sweetheart. Tell me.” 

She does. She does. She likes it. She lets him know when she goes moaning into bliss. 

Rio doesn’t follow her over; he’s holding himself back. He wants nothing more than to let himself go and lie down behind her and twine his feet with hers and let her sleep. 

But one more time would be good. Her up against a wall; that’s what he needs. He dreams of it… often. And the memory of it once made him unable to hit it with that poor girl; _what was her name again? Hadley or hailey?_ He still doesn’t recall.so yes… now he needs Elizabeth up against a wall. _Then_ he’ll let her sleep. So he pulls her out of bed, helps her lose her clothes and pushes her into the shower ahead of him.

She is worried that the lady he called _tia_ knows by now what they are up to. _What must she think of us? Of me? And why isn’t Rio bothered?_ He doesn’t give her much of a chance to think about it though; she’s already up against the wall with her legs around his waist when he asks her, “Still want it, darling?” 

Elizabeth nods.

“Say it for me, mami. Say that little word for me, darling.” That warm husk is back in Rio’s voice. 

“Yes,” Elizabeth says.

“Yeah?” he hoists her higher on the wall, gets his cock between her pink lips and rocks there teasingly. “What do you want, ma? Tell me.” 

He hates how much he loves those pink lips; he really hates how now every time he sees the colour pink, he immediately thinks of _her_ pink lips… and _fuck!_ he’s starting to realise that there is so much fuckin’ pink in the world around. He fuckin’ loves them. 

_“What do you want, ma? Tell me.”_

“I wa…” he cuts her off by pushing himself hard into her. 

“You said you…?”

“I wan…” He does it again. Now he’s just fuckin’ with her. 

“Sorry, mama. I didn’t quite hear that…”

“I-want-you.” She gets it out quick; like it’s one word. He laughs. 

Then Rio asks her, in a rough whisper next to her ear, “will you squirt for me again, soon? Christ! It felt so good, mama. You feel so good, Elizabeth.” She mewls. Then he’s fuckin’ her and he’s not being too gentle about it and she tries to hold in her moans. And when she can’t, he kisses her and swallows the sound of her coming around him. 

_Christ, Elizabeth! Goddamn cherry blossom; will I never have enough?_

  
\---

 **Rio:** _Don’t care if you’re too loud_

_Sexy I want you now_

_Bet I could take you there_

_Whispering in your ear_

_What do you wanna feel_

_Let’s just enjoy the thrill_

_I’ll take over the wheel_

_And give you the touch you’re missing_

_Get low, get low_

_Hands on your waist, let’s go_

_Get low, get low_

_Girl, you got the vibe, I’m up for the climb_

_\--_

**Beth:** _He’s got a thing for flowers but only certain kinds_

_And by certain kinds, I mean, only if it’s mine,_

_There’s no innuendo; it’s exactly what you think_

_Believe me when I tell you that he loves the colour_ **_Pink_ **

**Mood Music Credit: Get low** by **Zedd**

 **Pink** by **Julia Michaels**


	38. Sleeping At Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tia Helena is... Really Rio's aunt?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear KJVet94, 
> 
> a few chapters back you made a comment that I couldn't respond to without giving things away; sorry for seemingly ignoring you. 
> 
> I loved that you picked out that hint so quick and here is the inevitable unraveling you predicted.  
> Thank you, 😘😘

**_Sleeping At Last_ **

**_O bountiful Venus, delight of gods and men_ ** …who fillest with life the ship-bearing sea and the fruit-producing earth; since by thy influence every living creature is conceived, and, springing forth, hails the light of the sun…  **_cause the fierce pursuits of war to cease,_ ** being lulled to rest throughout all seas and lands. For thou alone canst bless mortals with tranquil peace;

**_since Mars, the lord of Arms,_ ** who controls the cruel tasks of war,  **_often flings himself upon thy lap, vanquished by the eternal wound of love,_ ** and thus looking up, his graceful neck thrown back,  **_he feasts his eager eyes with love,_ ** gazing intently on thee, O goddess, and his breath as he reclines, hangs on thy lips. Bending over him, O goddess, as he reposes to embrace him with thy sacred person, pour from thy lips sweet converse, entreating unruffled peace…

in **_On the Nature of Things_** (c. 60 BC) by **Titus Lucretius Carus** (c. 99 BC- 55 BC)

**چوچو**

**Beth:** _ You’re movin’ without movin’ _

_ And when you move, I’m moved _

_ You are a call to motion,  _

_ There, all of you a verb in perfect view _

_ You’re less Polunin leapin’ _

_ Or Fred Astaire in sequins _

**_Honey, you, you’re Atlas in his sleepin’_ **

**_And when you move, I’m moved_ **

_ When you move,  _

_ I put to mind all that I wanna be, _

_ And I could never define all that you are to me  _

_ When you move,  _

_ I can recall something that’s gone from me, _

_ Honey, I’m put in awe of something so flawed and free _

_ So move me, baby _

_ Like you’ve nothing left to lose _

_ And nothing to prove _

_ Move me, baby _

**Mood music Credit: Movement** by **Hozier**

She doesn’t know why she goes downstairs without him. Scratch that; she does. It’s because he’s sleeping.

Rio’s sleeping and she’s never actually seen him sleeping before. She’s never woken up and found him asleep -except three nights ago; on the Friday night when he figured out that she was still pregnant with his baby, she had woken up and he had still been sleeping. But the lights had been off so she didn’t  _ see _ him sleeping. 

But now, now he’s sleeping and he looks… different. His face looks… younger somehow… more boyish somehow… softer somehow… sweeter somehow… almost… Elizabeth wants to say,  _ happy _ . He looks happy in his sleep. 

And relaxed. And warm. And comfortable. And not tense. Not animated. 

_ He looks like he put his head somewhere he felt was safe and then… slept. _

Elizabeth doesn’t know what to do with that thought. Because the place that Rio put his head was in his bed in this beautiful house down by the lake and faraway from the city; from business; from work. 

But also, the place that he put his head was in the crook of her neck with his arms around her and the baby.  _ What does that mean?  _ The query goes unanswered in her mind.

Looking at him asleep on his back and with his face half-pressed into the pillow where her head had been, something inside her aches and aches with need and she could almost cry. Because she wants him. She thinks she wants him for keeps. And she thinks she wants to run away; to escape this feeling; to wrench herself from looking at this beautiful picture of him which makes her feel _things;_ this view of Rio lying perfectly still, sound asleep; she wants to say… _sated._

She has an odd thought; she doesn’t know from where it came. But she suddenly remembers Boticelli’s painting,  _ Venus and Mars _ . She’s always loved that painting and watching Rio sleep, she thinks she’s never loved it more than she does now. Because suddenly she sees herself in it; sees Rio in it;

Rio, naked and sound asleep, calls to mind Boticelli’s sleeping, nude Mars. Elizabeth sees herself fully-clothed and it reminds her of Boticelli’s Venus, who sits watching a sleeping, sated Mars after their love-making much like Elizabeth now watches Rio. 

The further meaning of the clothed Venus is not lost on her. A clothed Venus is an adulterous Venus, married as she is to Vulcan;  _ Dean,  _ Ellizabeth thinks and shudders.  _ I have to tell him about the baby soon. _ She squashes the thought and her mind recurs to the painting

She half-smiles with amusement at the memory of the little satyrs in the painting; three of those cheeky figures amusing themselves with Mar’s implements of war whilst the fourth blows a conch shell in Mars’ ears in a vain attempt to wake him from his satisfied slumber. 

And it’s a mad thing to do, but Elizabeth leans over Rio and says his name a couple of times; he stirs and half-opens his eyes but then they drift shut immediately and he doesn’t awaken. He rolls onto his side and presses his face deeper into the pillow where her head had been. Elizabeth bites her lip then shakes her head at herself.  _ Stop being fanciful, Beth,  _ she tells herself. She despises herself a little.

Then her mouth twists; she can’t shake the bittersweet feeling inside her because watching him sleep, she feels like there’s nothing she’s ever wanted more than she wants him; and now she wants to lie next to him and sleep next to him every night and wake up next to him every morning and feel his breath in that spot where he buries his face; in the crook of her neck when he’s breathing in the cherry-blossom scent of her hair. She wants to feel his arm under her head and his other hand on her belly and his feet twined around hers, making her feel like she loves him and like maybe he loves her. 

But she’s afraid because now, when Rio is in this bed in this lake house, she really, really could convince herself he loves her but when he’s awake and back in the city –back to business- she’s afraid there might be nothing in his eyes but that cool look he’s given her for months. 

And she still doesn’t  _ know _ whether he loves her or loves her not. 

So she steals back her panties from his jeans in the armchair by the window, brushes her lips against his and goes back downstairs. Once there though, she wants to bolt back up the stairway because it suddenly occurs to her that maybe the lady in kitchen might resent her intrusion. She starts to turn back up the stairs.

“You can come into the kitchen,” Helena calls to her. Beth turns but Helena is peering into the oven. Had Helena looked up, Beth thinks she might have made her excuses and tried to retreat upstairs but she doesn’t look up for a while. And it feels odd just standing at the foot of the stairs waiting for Helena to straighten so Beth resigns herself to the choice she had already made and drifts into the kitchen. 

“Please, have a seat,” Helena gestures to the seats at the kitchen island. They exchange pleasantries then there’s a lull in the conversation. 

“Has he abandoned you for work already? I can never get him to get off his phone. It’s maddening,” Helena says. 

Beth smiles politely and says, “He’s asl…” She falters; she wants to say _asleep._ But somehow that seems like too-brazenly admitting to what Helena must already know they were doing so Beth’s voice trails off. “He’s… upstairs,” she finishes weakly; weakly because she’s just stated the obvious. Since he’s not downstairs he’s… upstairs. Still she thinks that’s better than just blatantly saying _“he’s asleep”_ _because he’s wrecked,_ Beth thinks.

Beth thinks she sees Helena’s eyebrow rise and a corner of her mouth twitch.

“Would you like a snack with that?” Helena pours Beth a glass of juice. “Lunch will be ready in an hour.”

“Oh, thank you, but I’m just fine.”

There’s another lull and there’s something expectant about it, Beth thinks; almost as though Helena is expecting her to supply the next topic of conversation. And Beth might be impertinent but there’s one thing she’s been trying to figure out since she heard Rio call her tía; is Helena really Rio’s aunt? 

So Beth quite brazenly asks, “Are you really his aunt?” Helena looks over at her from the other side of the island. And she seems half-surprised at the question but she’s got laughing chocolate eyes and somehow they make Beth not take back the query even though her first instinct is to apologise for prying. 

“Yeah, I’m Rosa’s younger sister. Rosa; his…”

They both say it at the same time, “his mum.” And Beth sounds like she’s just thinking out loud; as though she didn’t actually mean to say what she just said and in truth she didn’t mean to. She really was just musing out loud.

“He told you about Rosa?” Helena’s eyes fixate on Beth; like she’s seeing her anew. As though somehow, Rio telling her about his mother raises Helena’s opinion of Beth and makes her want to reexamine her first estimation of Beth. And it does. Because Rio does not talk about his mother. Ever. 

“Um… he mentioned her. I mean… I might have dragged it out of him a bit.”

Helena laughs. “That’s the only way with Christopher. If you want to get anything out of him, you’ve got to be ready to feel like you’re pulling teeth.”

They both chuckle. Helena gets an assortment of vegetables from the fridge and washes them. Beth is watching her lay them out on a tray when Helena very quietly says, “Is he happy?”

Beth gulps.  _ “Is he happy?” “Is he happy?” Is he happy? Jesus! What kind of question is that to ask a stranger about your own nephew? “Is he happy?”  _ She doesn’t answer; just sort of half-raises one shoulder in an apologetic, unspoken I-can’t-answer-that-with-any-real-confidence shrug. 

Helena renews her offer of a snack before lunch and Beth is about to once again decline when she realizes that it might be less rude to just accept the snack and be grateful. So she says thank you and listens to the rather long list of options; canapes, fruits, chips, nuts, cheese, yoghurt, crackers. As she talks, Helena is busy slicing veggies for what appears to be a platter of crudités. But Beth’s mind has already fixated on one thing; the nuts she’s been craving since Sunday. So she gets a bowl of those served to her and she’s oddly pleased just at the sight of them;  _ finally, to satisfy this craving, _ she thinks.

And maybe Beth is feeling grateful to Helena for being nice and kind and welcoming…and for the nuts. She’s strangely grateful for the nuts. So she says what she would never otherwise say, “He seemed… less happy. When he told me about his mum, he seemed… less happy.” 

Both times she wants to say,  _ “sad _ ” but she doesn’t; instead going with the less emphatic  _ “less happy”.  _

Helena winces and there’s a long pause during which she arranges the cucumbers, carrots, broccoli florets and cherry-tomatoes on a platter around a bowl of dip. Beth finds she has never regretted opening her mouth as much as she rues having done so a minute ago.

She drinks her juice and wishes she hadn’t come down the stairs. She fidgets in her chair and almost regrets coming to the lakehouse.  _ No. no, that’s not the issue. It’s you and your mouth, Beth. Jesus! Couldn’t just keep it shut, could you? stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. What were you thinking?  _ Beth has another sip and really, really rues coming downstairs. She’s plotting her escape when Helena suddenly says, “It’s not you though.”

Beth doesn’t understand. And her incomprehension must be apparent on her face because Helena repeats, “It’s not you… that made him  _ “less happy”;  _ it’s the house, I think.” Beth thinks that she understands even less now. She knows Helena is trying to clarify things, to explain, but that statement has snatched away all possibility that Beth could comprehend what Helena just said.

_ “It’s not you… that made him “less happy”;  _ **_it’s the house,_ ** _ I think.” _

What does that even mean? Beth hasn’t a clue. And she thinks she’s not sure she wants to go any further down that rabbit-hole. Still, long silences between casual acquaintances are rarely companionable or comfortable; and this one is certainly not. It’s long and awkward and pregnant with expectation. Beth wishes she could spirit herself back up that stairway. Watching Rio sleeping and aching over him might be preferable to this never-ending pause. It stretches on and on…

Beth’s mind scurries about looking for an appropriate topic of conversation; one not fraught with unexpected pitfalls and sudden intimate revelations. She can’t find one. 

_ “It’s not you… that made him “less happy”;  _ **_it’s the house,_ ** _ I think.” _

Her mind keeps recurring to this one thought;  _ how can a  _ **_house_ ** _ make you unhappy? _ How can such an unbelievably, beautiful house make one unhappy? How does this very-obviously-new house relate to his mother?

_ “It’s not you… that made him “less happy”;  _ **_it’s the house,_ ** _ I think.” _

Beth is still casting about for a change of subject but can’t settle on any. The weather? Somehow she thinks that would be crass; to go from this disturbingly- intense conversation to bland “Oh, the weather’s nice today” might be more offensive than just sitting here in silence until the end of time. But the quiet;  _ Shall it never end? Please say something. Anything. Please say anything at all.  _ But Helena is apparently not one of those weak-willed people who can be telepathically compelled to do or say as Beth wants, Beth finds out. Rather, Helena seems perfectly content to let the godawful silence drag on. 

  
  


So Beth picks on the obvious thing and says, “The house is beautiful.”

Helena smiles, obviously gratified. “Yes. Yes, it is, thank you. We have Rio to thank for that.”

“Oh?” Beth supplies. It’s an invitation to continue. But Helena is already talking, “It’s a wonder it’s still standing.”

“Is it?” another invitation to keep talking. A gently expressed  _ I’m-not-bored-please-continue-feel-free-to-bore-with-every-detail _ and also  _ Please-for-god’s-sake-don’t-let-us-have-another-one-of-those-silences-Jesus!-Please-just-keep-talking-so-i-don’t-feel-the-need-to-go-tearing-out-of-here-and-straight-into-the-lake.  _

Helena takes it, “There were days I thought Rio only bought it back so he could tear it down.”

And if Beth wasn’t bored before, now her interest is piqued. “Bought it  _ back _ ?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s his childhood home. Mine too to be honest.”

And now Beth is really, really interested. She sits up. “So why was he trying to tear it down?” 

She tries to inject a note of nonchalance into her voice but she’s not sure her question comes across as anything other than the rabid curiosity she suddenly has about this house.  _ This beautiful, beautiful house and why was he trying to tear it down? Ha!  _ Beth’s suddenly glad she came downstairs. She feels no shame about it. She thinks maybe it’s because Rio knows so much about her but she hardly knows anything about him. And yet, here is opportunity; practically beating down her door to tell her about Rio’s childhood. His  _ childhood! _ It’s all too delicious for her to feel shame.

“Rio’s grandmother died when I was young. So Rosa might have been my sister but she was also sort of my mum too. She was 17 years older than me…,” Helena says by way of explanation. 

Then she grins, self-deprecatingly. “I was an accident…a happy one, so my  _ mama _ said. Then I came to live with Rosa when mama passed on. I was 13 then. Rio was just about six and Carla was four. So he was more my little brother than my nephew, do you know what I mean?” Beth nods. She understands completely. It’s uncanny how similar this story is to Beth’s own life with Annie.

Helena continues, “But you had best believe I made the little rascal call me auntie. He hated it… and even now he only does it because I’d whack him if he didn’t.” 

Beth grins at the image her mind has conjured up of Rio  _ -deadly, dangerous Rio- _ being whacked by this affable, smiling woman in the kitchen. She shakes her head at the hyperbole.

“But is this the same house though? I mean, it looks so… new.”

“Oh, no. It’s the same house. He bought it back three years ago from the folks who lived here after Hector lost the house.” Beth’s mind goes,  _ Hector?  _ But she says nothing. Just keeps a benign expression on her face and waits for Helena to continue.

“Then he  _ remodeled _ it.” Beth can practically see the air-quotes. Helena continues, “Sometimes, I thought he was trying to destroy it; to tear it out by its roots… it’s funny; but I always had this sense that when he bought it, he was trying to buy his childhood back. But then I think he did and he didn’t like what he found. So he went about knocking out everything he could. Some days I was afraid he’d knock it all down to its foundations.” 

Helena has a wistful look on her face. “It’s strange the things people do; because once there was nothing left to knock down, suddenly there he was; urgently trying to put everything back that he’d torn out of it.” Beth has the unexpected thought;  _ she’s looking at me but she’s seeing the past.  _ Helena shakes her head and snaps back to the present.

Beth knows she’s pushing it but she’s just so curious and maybe she thinks Rio would never tell her but Helena might, “But wasn’t his childhood… happy?”

“Oh, it was. Until Rosa died,” Helena crosses herself and mumbles something. Beth thinks she said, “God rest her soul.”

“Then his papa became… different. You know how it is with some men their whole lives revolve around their work and when they are home, they are counting on their wife for everything?” Beth thinks,  _ You mean like Dean? _ She nods.

Helena doesn’t wait for an answer, “Hector just… drifted after Rosa died.” She crosses herself again. “He just wasn’t there, even when he was. And this house, I think it brings his mother back to him… then takes her away again.” 

Beth is unsettled. She bites her lip. Maybe she’s found out more than she meant to. Does Helena talk to everyone like this? Tell their family history in ten minutes as though it’s nothing.

There’s another achingly long pause. To Beth, the sun rises and sets several times on that pause. But in fact, it’s only a minute or so. Then Helena says the thing that leaves Beth in no doubt that this delAguila family history is not being shared lightly. 

Helena says, “So… how far along are you?”

Beth startles; nearly chokes on a nut; she coughs.  _ Jesus! How did she see it? _

“How… um, is it that… is it that obvious?”

Helena looks surprised. As though she doesn’t understand how Beth could possibly expect her not to know. As though it’s so obvious to Helena that Beth is pregnant. She says, “Well… you’ve been holding your baby since you came down those steps.”

Beth drops her hand from her belly and nervously smooths her dress down over her thighs. 

“Oh, no. Please don’t stop because I mentioned it. Does not everyone know?”

Beth opens her mouth. Closes it. How to begin to answer that question? How to say that no one knows besides herself and Rio and now apparently Rio’s aunt? How to begin to explain that she’s actually married and her husband doesn’t know because he hasn’t really  _ looked at _ her in years? That to her own sister and best friend, her baby might as well be invisible? 

She has to tell them, Beth knows. She has to tell them and tell them soon before they figure it out for themselves. They’ll all be so angry. For different reasons but they’ll be angry.  _ Maybe Ruby won’t be too mad at me. Maybe I should tell  _ **_her_ ** _ first. _

  
  


**چوچو**

_ I went to a place to repair myself  _

_ But I never left _

_ The loop of the waves crashing on my shore  _

_ Got stuck in my head and never came out _

_ I held a seashell _

_ Close to my ear _

_ I listened to the sound of the sea _

_ It made me swear  _

_ An oath of secrecy _

_ I couldn’t tell a soul what it told me _

_ Oh, it’d be better if the world would all slow down _

_ It’d be better if I knew then what I know now _

_ It’d be better if I was swimming in the shallows _

_ In the shallows _

_ ‘Cause then I wouldn’t need to spend my whole life _

_ Catching up to you _

**Mood music Credit: Closed loop** by **Elliot Moss**

Rio comes padding silently into the kitchen. She doesn’t hear him come up behind her until he touches her shoulder and runs his hand lightly down her arm to her hand. He drops a hoodie in her lap but doesn’t look at her as he says, “It’s cold out by the lake, mama. Put that on.”

Then his fingers are slipping through hers as he says to Helena, “¿Cómo va el interrogatorio?” 

Helena laughs. Elizabeth thinks she understands that he asked something about how the interrogation is going. Now she really regrets studying French rather than Spanish. But given that they lived so close to Canada, she’d had expected to get more use out of French than she has made out of it. She almost wishes Annie were here to act as a rudimentary translation service. 

“¿Terminaste de acosarla, tía? ¿O debería dormir un poco más?” That went right over Elizabeth’s head. She looks between them and keeps a neutral expression. Rio translates, “Has she harassed you enough or are you up for more? ‘Cause if I don’t have to rescue you, then I could go sleep some more.”

Elizabeth lip quirks. “Who said I need rescuing?” 

“Should have known. Of course, you’re the interrogator.” 

Then he smiles a languid smile at her and says, “You ruined my nap anyway; why’d you take your feet away and leave mine cold?” Elizabeth blushes and doesn’t know how to respond to that. But he’s already walking around the island to hug his aunt. 

“Malo como siempre. Subir las escaleras para hacer Dios sabe qué ante de saludar a tu tía favorita,” his aunt chides. 

“You’re my  _ only _ aunt; I don’t really get a choice in the matter.” He hugs her and kisses her cheek and he’s laughing as he says, “And you’re a fine one to judge; you forget I used to open my window for you to sneak your boyfriend in so that mama wouldn’t hear him come in at midnight?” 

Rio laughs at the face his aunt makes then adds, “For real though, tía; what were you thinking? For God’s sake, he had a purple mohawk. He was beyond dubious.” He chuckles some more.

“Look at you; taking the Lord’s name in vain and then shaming me in front of your baby’s mama.” Helena smacks Rio with the kitchen roll; he ducks. 

Meanwhile, Elizabeth goes pink again;  _ “…your baby’s mama.” His baby’s mama. Jesus! Will that ever not feel so… confusing? Will those words ever not make me feel hot and bothered? His baby’s mama. His baby-mama. _

Helena turns to Elizabeth and defends herself, “It was one time. It was one time and he has used it as a defence for everything under the sun.” 

Elizabeth glances at Rio to find him looking at her with a half-smile and hooded eyes. She blushes again and pushes her bowl of nuts about on the bar. 

_ “ Look at you;… shaming me in front of your baby’s mama.” _

“So the interrogation was successful. Mama, you fessed up, huh?”

Helena scoffs and Rio glances back at her, “Who needs a confession when I can see for myself? She won’t take her hand off your baby. See?” They both turn to Elizabeth and Elizabeth drops her hand to her lap but not fast enough.

Rio grins; he likes it.  _ Christ! _ He could almost take her back upstairs and…  _ Fuck! _ As he comes back round the island to stand behind her, something about his face looks half-dangerous. He slips a hand possessively about her waist and holds her hand under his on the baby bump.

He murmurs into her ear, “Look at you, ma; you just  _ love _ having my baby in you, don’t you?” 

Elizabeth tries to but doesn’t quite succeed in hiding the shiver that runs through her. She tugs her hand out from under his and straightens her spine, vaguely uncomfortable with the PDA. It’s obvious that Rio doesn’t care what his aunt thinks though. To be fair, Elizabeth thinks to herself, Helena also genuinely doesn’t seem to mind seeing Rio being touchy-feely. 

Helena excuses herself; she has errands to run in the town fifteen minutes up on Old Lake Road and says her goodbyes; she's meeting an old friend and by the time she expects to be back, Rio and Elizabeth will have been long gone. 

“¿Cuándo volverá Manny a casa?” Helena asks Rio as Rio holds the kitchen door open for her and they step out onto the patio.

“I can’t say for sure, Tía. But we’re working on…” Rio’s voice becomes an inaudible murmur as they move out of earshot.

They have lunch on the patio and even in the sunshine, there’s a slight chill in the breeze. Elizabeth pulls on the hoodie; it smells faintly of him and something about being wrapped up and warm in his scent while he sits across from her and watches her unfurls a warmth low in her belly. The hoodie is simultaneously too long -she pushes the sleeves up- and too tight across her bust for her to zip it up -she leaves it open. 

Rio is watching her ruin his hoodie by pushing those fitted sleeves up her forearms. He’s going to miss it but it looks so good on her; so good because it’s so obviously not hers; because it’s so obviously his.  _ So obviously mine. Yes, ma. So are you. You are so obviously mine, sweetheart. _

She barely eats.

“Why’d you ruin your lunch with nuts, ma?” 

Unthinkingly, and later she thinks there was no way she could reasonably have been expected to predict his response, she says, “Oh, it was just a craving.”

Later, they’re walking on that strip of sandy shore when Rio stops to pick up some flat stones to skip on the water. Elizabeth walks on ahead with her shoes in her hand. Rio is thinking that he should bring Marcus to the lake-house the following weekend. He really hopes he doesn’t have to work. 

He likes the photo that sits in his closet of him and Marcus on the patio steps of the lake-house. It’s one of his favourites. He gets a pang when he realises that it was  _ taken slightly over a year ago. Yeah, gotta get Marcus down here before the water gets too cold. Then we can take a boat out on the water and maybe even go for a swim in the lake. _ He hopes the good weather holds a little longer. 

Rio straightens, his left hand full of flat stones and his heart twists. And his mouth goes dry and his throat feels tight. Vaguely, the thought registers that sometimes he hates all these emotions he feels around Elizabeth but then the moment is passed and he’s not thinking thoughts anymore but just feelings. 

Because suddenly, he’s looking at an Elizabeth he’s never seen before. She’s facing out to the water and her hair has caught the breeze and is streaming out behind her. She takes no notice of it. She’s got her feet in the water at the lake’s edge and is looking down at them; she looks lost in thought. She squishes her toes into the sand at the water’s edge and watches the small waves rinse the sand away. She does it again; wiggling her toes into the sand and watching the water wash the sand away. Over and over again, she does it.

And she’s got an expression on her face he’s never seen before; she looks…  _ joyous. _ Joyous like she’s forgotten he’s even there. Joyous like she’s all alone and it’s just her and the sand and the water’s edge… and the baby. Because she’s got her hand on the baby.  _ When did she start doing that? Would I have noticed if I didn’t already know Baby is in there?  _ Rio swallows. 

And then he swallows again because it almost hurts to see her expression change; something about her face goes wistful… then she startles out of her reverie and looks down the shore at him and her face is suddenly simultaneously happier… yet less happy. Happier because right in this moment she’s happy; less happy because, he thinks,  _ reality checked in. It’s okay, mama. It’s all going to be okay someday soon. We’re all good, darling. _

Rio tells himself to get that feeling in his chest off his face; He’s suddenly urgently desperate to put that previous expression on her face. But he knows it’s futile. There are too many unsettled things between them and he doesn’t yet know how to settle them. They can’t be settled right now anyway.

So Rio decides that he too can settle for this moment of happiness and it will be enough;  _ it  _ **_has_ ** _ to be enough.  _ Except it won’t be; he knows it won’t be because this day is coming to an end and _ the bubble will burst and then it’ll be back to business and then we’ll be knee-deep in all our issues again. Just be happy now, Rio. Make her happy now. Then we will both go and fuck it up tomorrow,  _ he tells himself. 

So he smiles at her and when he hands her stones to skip on the lake, she drops her shoes in the sand. She’s abysmal at it. And a sore loser; she doesn’t want to quit trying when the stones in his hands and pocket run out. She would probably be less sore about it if all the stones he’s thrown weren’t skipping gracefully over the water while hers all plonked into the lake with a sad, little sploshing noise. 

She’d be even less sore, Rio acknowledges, if he weren’t needling her and making those cartoon fail sound-effects every time she scrunched up her face and failed yet again.  _ Christ! Has he ever met anyone this competitive? Over skipping rocks for crying out loud? _ He throws another stone and it goes bouncing over the water, “Woooo, mama! I am just so damn good at this! But  _ you _ …not so much,” he crows and laughs at her cross face.

“I hate you.” She shoves him and Rio blinks. It always surprises him when she says that; then he remembers that she never actually says it when she means it. It’s odd, but he thinks he  _ knows _ she’d never actually say it to someone she really did hate. 

He thinks he knows she’d never have said it to him right after he killed Lucy. Because, he thinks, _she really did hate me then._ _Now?_ He thinks not. And he really wants to tell her he hates her too; the same way she says it. But he can’t; it feels like it would be admitting to more than he is willing to right now. So instead he hands her another rock and laughingly tells her to “Go on and fail again. You suck so hard at this, Elizabeth.”

Eventually, he shows her how to do it. 

“Someone’s gotta teach you how to do it; I might as well be the poor, long-suffering fool who signs up for it, yeah?” He grins at her and is expecting it when she shoves him again. But there’s amusement in her blue eyes and that makes him glad.  _ Pathetic, Rio. Just freakin’ pathetic. _

“You need to throw it underhand and put some spin on it, with your index finger and thumb.” He demonstrates. And he’s only got 5 rocks in his hand; he slips one into his pocket and after three tries, he thinks she’s got the hang of it. 

He hands her the fourth stone and says, “Go for it, ma. Come on; Just like we practiced.”

_ Fuck!  _ They both hear it at the same time; that echo of the Night things went horribly wrong between them and she left him dying on the floor of his loft. 

_ “Come on; Just like we practiced,”  _ Rio had said to her that wretched Night. 

Shoot Turner;  _ Come on; Just like we practiced,” _ Rio had said as he took the safety off his golden gun and handed it to Elizabeth. And she’d been crying but he’d thought… He shakes his head; tries to snap out of the memory.

Rio doesn’t want to think about it again today. Not again today. Not now. He doesn’t want  _ her _ to remember again; not after he already made her face those scars once today. The scars that she has to stop hiding from because they’re not going anywhere and she has to see them every time he takes off his clothes for her. 

Because he can’t stand that petrified look that comes into her eyes when she sees the scars she put there; that look that makes her seem like she’s scared all over again and like she wants to run away from him again; like she wants to leave him again.

He had had to get that look off her face because he wants to keep taking off his clothes for her and he can’t keep doing it when she looks at him like she’s ready to bolt. That’s why he did it; why he made her look at them and cop to what she did. Not because he’s fine with them. Not because he’s magically forgiven her but,  _ So you can stop looking like you’re going to leave me again, Elizabeth. I don’t think I could take it again, ma. _

But right this moment, he doesn’t want her to think about that Night. He doesn’t want her to not be happy out here in the sunshine. On this sandy shore, he just wants her to be happy. So  _ fuck! why’d I say it like that?  _ **_“Come on; Just like we practiced.”_ ** _ Fuck! The day’s not even over and the damn bubble is starting to burst already. Goddamn it! _

And now a strange haunted look is on her face and Rio wants to curse because every time he tries to make her happy, somehow things end up bad again. Somehow, they keep ending up at that Night again;  _ it’s like a fuckin’ nightmare we can’t wake up from. _

_ “Come on; Just like we practiced.”  _

Elizabeth gulps. Her face twists. The wind whips her hair into her face. Instinctively, Rio reaches out and pushes it off her face and behind her ear. It’s a strange thing to see; as his hand passes over her face, his fingers might as well have raked the haunting memory off her face along with her hair because her expression changes; something almost like relief crosses her face, then his thumb is on the dimple in her chin and she’s just… smiling in the sunshine again.

Then Elizabeth’s turning back to the lake and biting her lip in concentration and it feels stupid but Rio realizes he’s almost holding his breath hoping she gets it this time. He’s rewarded by the squeal she makes as the rock skips twice on the water then drops into the lake. 

_It’s stupid,_ Elizabeth thinks. _I’m such a child!_ But she’s excited and she laughs and looks up at Rio and he kisses her. Kisses her and is so desperate to keep her laughing that he wants to curse; because the day is ending. And they have to go back now and he almost doesn’t want to. So he holds her as long as he can in his arms and kisses her until he has to come up gulping for air.

Elizabeth is breathless when he steps back and starts jogging backwards towards the house. “Race you,” he calls.

“Come on, I have a baby inside me. There’s  _ no  _ way I could possibly beat you.” Elizabeth complains.

“You can… if I’m running backwards,” Rio mocks. It seems to amuse him; he cackles until he’s bent over wheezing with laughter. Later, he tells himself he should have known better; he should have expected Elizabeth to fight dirty. She keeps walking sedately, with her nose in the air as though she won’t deign to dignify his little challenge by trying to run. 

Rio’s just opening his mouth to say what he’s later glad he doesn’t get to say because it would have brought back yet another unhappy memory of their last phone call before that goddamn Nigh; her saying, “You could help but you choose not to.” 

He almost says, “Ah, don’t be like that, Elizabeth.” Because he tried to  _ “help” _ and punish her at the same time and it turned into that Night;  _ Fuck! like a fuckin’ nightmare that just plays on repeat. _

He doesn’t get a chance to say it though; as she walks by him, she suddenly gives him a hard shove and he’s not expecting it; he falls backwards and sits in the sand. And he’s scrambling to get up and grab her shoes from where she had dropped them at his feet and she’s already running back to the house. She beats him there by a step or two and he’s still calling her a dirty, little cheat as he locks up and helps her into the car and starts driving home. 

He thinks he needs to take the long way home.

_ Christ!  _ He thinks maybe he loves her.

**چوچو**

_ Long drive, long night _

**_The thought of arriving, kind of feels like, dying_ **

_ I don't want, to go home and be, alone _

_ Could we, stay out? _

_ Could you, drive a little slower  _

_We could take the long way_

_ To the country out of town _

_ Let's get lost, I don't wanna be found _

_ You and the road have a generous shoulder _

_ We can pull over and say we took the long way _

_ Headlights, strobe lights,  _

_ I see you, but not quite _

_ Drive a little slower, _

_ Don't matter where we're going now _

**_We can take the long way home._ **

**Mood music Credit: Long drive** by **Jason Mraz**

**چوچو**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh and the Spanish might not be grammatically correct: sorry.  
> If you notice any grammatical errors that require correction, pls leave a comment and I'll get right on that.


	39. Feels Like Dying// Long Drive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth and Rio take the long way home.
> 
> Rio discovers a few more things about Beth and the pregnancy that make him... crave things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isabela, where did you go? 😘😘
> 
> EmDee8907 👋😘
> 
> Come back, lovelies.

**_Feels Like Dying// Long Drive _ **

**Brio:** _ We can runaway _

_ But we can't hide for long _

_ And all that lingers harms us _

_ I can lie to you _

_ But the truth comes alive _

**_Every time I die_ **

**_Saying goodbye_ **

_ Is it up to me? _

_ It's always been up to you _

_ To find the peace we needed to _

_ Is it said and done _

_ Is it carved in the stone?  _ **_Goodbye?_ **

_ And how many days is it gonna take _

_ 'Til we get back home _

**Rio:** _ 'Cause I'm losing my way in the game _

_ 'Cause I don't want to change _

_ But, I can't stay this way _

_ Yet I will always stay this way _

_ I don't even mind staying chained _

_ And thinking of you, thinking of you _

**Mood music Credit: Chained by Elle King and Cameron Neal**

“Who’s got the kids today, mama? Can we take the long way home?” Rio asks. 

She nods; yes, they can take the long way home. Because on Mondays and Tuesdays, Dean’s got kid duty at his mother’s; Wednesdays and Thursdays she’s got after-school pick-up and homework with the kids before she drops them off at Judith’s and heads out to meet Annie and Ruby at the printshop. Then on Friday night, it’s family dinner and they all hang out together. Saturdays and Sundays one of them has the kids while the other runs errands. 

Elizabeth has the strange thought that even though she and Dean sleep in the same bed,  _ It almost feels as though we are roommates and only sharing custody of the kids.  _ She remembers Dean talking about nesting; about them getting an apartment to share while the kids get the house. Elizabeth doesn’t think it would work. But she knows she’s going to have to face up to it soon; her marriage has been over for a long, long time now and it’s time to call it.  _ Jesus! Dean will want to kill something when he discovers I’m having Rio’s baby. _

Elizabeth has another odd thought; it’s strange for Rio to be concerned about the kids when he’s literally the one keeping their beds and causing them to not be home.  _ Does he even know they’re not home?  _ She wants to be upset at him. She really does. And she is. It’s just that…  _ I’m less upset than I should be. Why?  _ Is it because she thinks that on some level, he was justified in taking all her stuff?  _ No; because the stuff he took is worth a lot more than the money I skimmed off him.  _

Maybe it’s because she thinks she finally understands just who he is;  _ The guy who will love me but will not let me walk all over him. He will not allow me to make a fool of him… like Dean made of me for all those years. _ The thought recurs in her mind,  _ The guy who will love me. _

Elizabeth gulps.  _ The guy who will love me! Jesus, Beth. Stop it. He hasn’t actually said it, has he? Does he love me? Does he not? How  _ **_could_ ** _ he possibly love me after everything? But he’s…  _ **_He’s here._ ** _ And today was…  _ She holds back a sigh. She remembers Dean saying, “You don’t kill the thing you love.”  _ Maybe he might love me… Or maybe not. Maybe I’m reading too much into this. Maybe it’s just the baby. Stop it, Beth. Don’t overthink it.  _

She nods to herself; _He_ ** _wants_** _me. He_ ** _loves_** _his baby. He_ ** _wants_** _his baby so bad. And he_ ** _wants_** _me. That’s enough, right? He doesn’t have to_ ** _love_** _me, right?_ Then she feels nauseous because, _I think_ ** _I_** _love him._ ** _I think I love him._** She doesn’t know what to do with that thought. She sighs. 

And it feels to Rio like she just breathed out the sigh he’s been holding in since they got back in the car. Since they left the lake-house he’s been feeling unsettled; half-upset. Like he doesn’t want to take her home. And he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to take her back to her dumbass husband  _ -fuckin’ carman. _

He wishes he could turn the car around and drive back to the lake-house and hide away with her; keep her with him all night. Or take her home to his loft and put her in his bed and hold her and the baby all night and wake her up and hit it in the middle of the night and then wrap himself around her and spoon her back to sleep. And make her breakfast and soap her back in the shower and hold those lovely, heavy, milky-orbs in his wet hands and tweak those nipples until she moans for him and asks him for it again; he clears his throat.  _ Fuck! Will I never get enough of you, sweetheart? _

But that’s not their deal so back home she goes;  _ Goddammit, Elizabeth! _

Rio thinks he doesn’t understand what she and Carman are doing together anymore because if she loves Carman,  _ why does she turn into… into that wild thing that she does for me? _ he asks himself. 

_ Why, mama? And it’s not just the sex either; it’s that look you’ve been giving me, darling… like you’re satisfied when you’re with me… like you want me so bad, sweetheart… like you could maybe almost-love me.  _ Then he can’t help but exhale that long breath he’s been holding in and it would have been a sigh but he clears his throat rather than let her hear it.

_She’s married. That’s her_ ** _husband_** _,_ he reminds himself. The little devil on his shoulder counters, _yeah… and he cheated on her. He must have. Or she wouldn’t be here with me._

Rio thinks he knows Elizabeth by now. She’s loyal to those she loves. He knows she confessed to a murder she hadn’t done to save her sister and friend. So for her to be disloyal to Carman, she must be really bitter about something. And Rio thinks he knows, the only thing that would make her that bitter is fuckin’ carman cheating on her.  _ Plus that dumbass doesn’t even see her; for fuck’s sake, how does he not know she’s pregnant? She sleeps in the same damn bed every night and that dumbass still hasn’t seen it?  _

_ Well, her husband certainly isn’t perceptive.  _ Rio thinks of the night she shared a table with her husband at the bar yet blatantly kept giving him, Rio, that come-hither look in her eye… _ like she wanted me; wanted me so bad. Like she couldn’t stand another minute with him.  _ And while he, Rio, had seen it from across the bar, Carman despite being seated with Elizabeth -directly opposite Elizabeth in fact- had seen nothing; sensed nothing.

Elizabeth had come to the bar that night knowing what she was going to do; nothing could possibly convince Rio otherwise. Because he had seen her the minute she walked in; and her eyes had already been searching the bar for him. Rio had been talking to Shapiro and his girlfriend at one of the tables near the door and Elizabeth had walked right past him. Rio had looked up surprised and seen her eyes roving around the bar for him; checking to see if he was seated at his usual spot. Then Rio saw Carman a step behind her. 

In his head, Rio had said a quiet, “What are you up to, Elizabeth?” then it hit him that only one thing would bring her to his bar with Carman in tow; she could only be there to stick a knife in someone; either in him or in Carman. Because Elizabeth liked  _ the _ bar, but she only liked it because of him, Rio… well... and the tab which he used to keep open for her day-drinking. He grins in the car; _ Damn, ma. Offering me chardonnay on my own tab.  _

Well, that night, Rio had been certain that he hadn’t done anything to deserve her screwing with him, so he had breathed out a, “Well, fuck me!” but not known that he had just spelled out the evening’s itinerary. 

So Rio had casually walked himself to his regular bar stool and waited to see what she’d do… and braced for trouble. Ricardo had come over and poured him a drink and pointed Elizabeth out to Rio with an, “Um, have you seen who’s here?” and a nod in her direction. Yes, Rio had already seen her. 

He had always wondered what made her do it. _ What made you go out on a date with your husband and then in the middle of it, decide to come looking for me? What made you do it, mama? What’d that dumbass do or say to piss you off? _ Rio has always wanted to know; _ if only so I know never to fuck up like that. Christ, mama! How do you do that to your hubby?  _

_ Heaven hath no rage like love to hatred turned; nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.  _

_Fuck! Truer words… and what-not,_ Rio thinks to himself. He rubs the scars on his chest; _Christ, mami! You put three slugs in me because I called you “work”. What did fuckin’ carman have to do or say that night for you to come fuck_ ** _me_** _?_

He remembers the look in her eyes; even from across the room, her eyes had dragged him out of his seat and lured into that bathroom after her. And he had known, _he had known,_ what she wanted. But he had just leaned on the door and waited for her to _show_ him what she needed because he needed to be certain; _to be sure that_ ** _she_** _was sure she wanted me._

Because he had been thinking it even back then; _Want me, ma. Need me, so I can take you. Tell me you want me to take you, ma._ He had been thinking it for _months_ before that night; _Choose me and let me steal you away from him._ ** _Want me_** _and I’ll make it so good for you, Elizabeth._

_ Christ!  _ It  _ had _ been so good. So good. Rio lets himself linger on the memory of her turning away from that mirror; turning around to face him. He recalls how her lips had parted and she had looked half-breathless as she walked right up to him. He had pushed himself off the bathroom door, thinking she was going to kiss him. 

Instead, Elizabeth had slipped her hand past him and locked the door behind him. And if he had been half-hard up to that point, the sound of the lock clicking home had been like a fuckin’ starter-gun for his cock; suddenly he was rock-hard. Rock-hard and just so fuckin’ eager to please her.  _ Fuck, mami! The things you make me do. _

Then he remembers her lifting that burgundy polka-dot dress; he licks his lips.  _ Just like she did again today.  _

Rio glances over at her; she looks sleepy. He turns on the heat on her seat. She settles deeper into it and crosses her legs; the movement bares a little more of her left thigh. He feels his mouth start to form that half-pout of desire which gives him away so he presses his lips together then shakes his head at himself.  _ Get it together, Rio, you insatiable degenerate. _

He recalls how her thighs had come into view that night at the bar; just the way he had been dreaming they would look; soft and pale and beautiful. He thinks of how his hand had looked on her skin; long and tanned and sinewy against the pallor of her thighs. He lets himself dwell on the pleasure he had felt as he had slid his fingers up the swell of her ass. How he had dropped his head to her neck; breathed in that cherry-blossom scent like he’d been wanting to practically since he met her and was first close enough to catch a whiff of it; and he had gulped and bitten his lip to ground himself. 

Then he’d ripped off her blue panties and his fingers had brushed her cunt and it had been so slick with her desire for him. He had simply put his right hand on her left shoulder and slid his cock into her and she had moaned; long and aching and needy and  _ Christ! _ It had been like taking a hit of blow; he’d felt the same instant euphoria; the same wild pounding in his chest. 

So he had done it a few more times, made her moan like that. Then he had quit fucking around and had brought her to orgasm quick and hard; with her still facing away from him and watching him in the mirror. And he had barely held on as she cried out and came for him that first time. 

But Rio had wanted more; had wanted the feel of her thighs locked around him; had wanted the feel of those glorious tits pressed against his chest; had wanted to bury his face in her hair and bite her neck when she came for him so he had turned her round and hoisted her up the wall. 

And as he fucked her fast and rough like they both needed, he knew they were both thinking of Carman being just a wall away. Rio knows their shared awareness of Carman’s proximity had brought them both to a faster climax than they had any right to. 

And as Rio fucked into her, Elizabeth had made those same moaning sounds; only she made them next to his ear and whimpered and pulled him closer and he had felt what he thought was a ravenous, reckless, raging, unquenchable need for her. 

Until she came moaning around Rio’s cock again;  _ and I came in you, Elizabeth and Christ! I think you loved it. I  _ **_know_ ** _ you loved it so fuckin’ much when I was spurting into you. Fuck, mami! _ Then there had been nothing but a feral, utterly savage,  _ savage _ satisfaction in Rio's eyes. 

And spilling into her, he had wanted her; wanted her for keeps so bad that later that week, he got caught slippin’. 

Because see, he’d been done with the funny-money game; until he realised that she had given it to her dumbass husband; so he had shown up at  _ fuckin’ Carman’s  _ dealership to get his money back –because he would be damned if he was going to let it go to that dumbass. 

And her;  _ Elizabeth. _ He had wanted Elizabeth more than anything.

_ Her _ ; that’s what he had  **_really_ ** been there for, he had later admitted to herself. 

But then she refused to tell Carman what they'd done and Rio had been so petulant he'd needed, **_needed,_** to smash that corvette. 

And he never wanted to let her go again because,  _ Fuck! It had just been so good.  _ And he was hooked and hang up on her and  _ she _ had loved it but she still went back to her husband  _ -fuckin’ carman. _

Now he tells himself it’s because of the kids. He remembers what she had once said when she’d been day-drinking at the bar; “My husband took my children.” She had been torn up about it and Rio had cursed silently; he had flashed back to Rhea refusing to let him see Marcus and he had wanted to go over there and kick Carman’s ass for her. Then he’d realized that the dumbass had taken her kids and probably told himself he was justified in doing so because of him, Rio. _ It’s not my damn marriage.  _ But _ fuck! _ He had despised Carman even more. 

So he had told her what he could; offered her the truth as he knew it, “You know it’s lonely at the top.” It had been cold comfort, he knows. He wonders if she still is afraid of being alone.  _ Yes, she is.  _

And now for the first time in eight years, Rio thinks, so is he. Because  _ fuck! _ He doesn’t want to be without her anymore. He doesn’t want to be lonely if lonely means being without her. He doesn’t want to do this alone anymore. He wants her.  _ He wants her. _ In any way she’ll fuckin’ have him for now. But he’s just biding his time because in the end, he wants her;  **_All_ ** _ of her.  _ And in the end, he’ll take nothing less than  **_all_ ** of her. 

He just wants her;  _ Come on, darling. Choose  _ **_me_ ** _ and let’s be lonely together. _

**Rio:** _ I wasn't lookin' for you _

_ But you found me, you found me _

_ Just as the smoke filled up the room _

_ In the valley _

**_You asked me, "Do you wanna die alone_ **

**_Or watch it all burn down together?"_ **

_ I said I'd rather try to hold on to you forever _

\--

_ 'Cause I know that I will love you _

_ And I'm not letting go _

_ If the sky darkens above you _

_ I'll stay by your side in the afterglow _

_ \-- _

_ This was the place I grew up _

_ Now it's ashes to ashes _

_ Memories fillin' my cup _

_ It comes in flashes _

_ But when it passes and I see your eyes, I know _

**_There's nothin' I'll ever find better_ **

**_I think I'd rather die alone, together_ **

\--

**Mood music Credit: Die alone** by **Finneas**

  
  


And now he has to take her home to Carman. It maddens him.  _ Dude, leave it alone. It’s not your damn marriage. Don’t get involved. Just take her home and let it be.  _

But he really wants to tell her,  _ Choose me, Elizabeth. Choose me, darling and I won’t let him take the kids. Even if I have to put him in the ground for you, I’ll make sure you get what you want, mama. Choose me and I won’t leave you lonely. Just  _ **_choose me,_ ** _ already.  _

But she won’t. Not tonight anyway. _Maybe not ever._ He rolls his shoulder; it’s anxiety leaking through. He tries to suppress it. **_Maybe she’ll never actually choose me._** He’s been trying to resign himself to that; he’s just been trying not to lose her any more than he has. _I think I love you, mama. Choose me and let me show you._ He wants to sigh again but he doesn’t. 

He reassures himself;  _ We’re having a baby. And I’ve got 18 years and slightly less than five months; 18 years of being in your life and showing you how good it could be. It’s all good, mami. We’re all good, mama.  _

Rio changes lanes, slows down as they approach a section with loose chippings on the road. Elizabeth shifts in her seat. 

The sun is almost setting; Rio can feel the impending sunset like a pressure on his nerves. He  _ is _ irritable. The closer they get to sunset, the closer they get home; the more he thinks that this lovely bubble that they have been in all day will burst soon.  _ And if we make it home still in the bubble, I’m the one who’s going to pop it tomorrow. _

He rubs his jaw with the knuckles of his left hand; touches the spot where Yuri clocked him before Rio sent him over into hell.  _ Fuck, mami. You’ll be mad at me tomorrow and we all know how that goes; you’ll start looking for some way to screw me over, right?  _ He rolls his shoulder again.

_ Aight, mami. Let’s make one more good memory and then go fuck it up tomorrow. _ His entire heart rebels at that; _ Goddammit, darling. Why do you have to fight me all the damn time? I must be some type of stupid to still want you the way I do. To love you the way I do…  _ Rio tries to hide from the certainty in his heart;  _ I  _ **_think_ ** _ I love you.  _

“Elizabeth…” 

She comes alert. Rio wants to tell her to relax; to snuggle back into that seat and be warm and soft again.

“Did you say you’re having cravings, mama?”

She narrows her eyes, “Yes…”

Rio seems to perk up, “For nuts?” 

Elizabeth nods, hums assent and thinks nothing more of it. Until about ten minutes later, he asks, quiet and low and in that voice he sometimes uses when he’s got her naked on his mind, “What else do you crave, mama?”

She glances at him and swallows a sound. For some inexplicable reason, in the half-dimness of dusk with nothing but the dials on the dashboard of the car lighting up his face and hers, she thinks he’s giving off a wild-feline energy. She shudders; sinks deeper in her seat then shakes her head, “Nothing.”

It’s a lie and she doesn’t know why she’s lying to him besides the fact that his question feels… Loaded. Heavy with meaning. Her breath leaves her in a ragged little exhale. She knows Rio has heard it. 

There’s something intense about him and every time she meets his eyes, she swears she feels the ghost of his touch on her body. So she straightens her back again and tries to keep a neutral expression and not blush like she wants to. 

And when she does stiffen her spine, he takes note of it;  _ Game on, darling.  _ And although he’s driving, he leans back further in his seat, becomes more loose-limbed somehow and quirks an eyebrow at her. 

“What?” Elizabeth asks to break the ensuing silence. 

“You what, mama?” he rejoins. And there’s something so lazy and drawling about it that against her best wishes, she flushes a deep red. She is glad he can’t see it in the light cast by the speedometer and tachometer.

A couple of minutes later, Rio insists, “You know, I’m still waiting for you to tell me what our baby is demanding; what you  _ crave.” _

She almost caves and tells him what she really wants to say, “You,” because she is increasingly coming to the conclusion that she will never have enough of him. Somehow, she thinks maybe the pregnancy hormones have something to do with it… although she can’t explain to herself why with Dean -with each pregnancy- her libido had been increasingly in the doldrums and yet, with Rio, she can’t stop thinking about his beautiful body underneath hers and that sound he makes in her hair when… she licks her lips and shifts in her seat.  _ It’s just new; a year from now, we’ll not be into it.  _ She almost scoffs at that; she can’t imagine not wanting Rio. __

She realizes she’s been quiet too long when Rio says, “Don’t make me ask you again, Elizabeth.” There’s something sweetly-threatening about his voice; he follows up the implied threat with a knuckle brushing lightly over her exposed thigh.

Elizabeth inhales and tries not to move her thigh; toward him or away from him, she doesn’t know which way she wants to move. She pushes down the urge; stays still. 

“Nuts… maybe chocolate some times.” Elizabeth wants to be casual about it but there’s something about his whole demeanour that makes her think that there will be consequences to this conversation. As though naming her cravings is some sort of foray into the unmarked borders of his very-obvious pregnancy kink.

“And…” Rio prompts her.

“I don’t know… just the usual.”

Rio flicks the turn signal on, takes the outer lane and pulls the G-wagon over on the wide shoulder of the road. He’s got the hazard lights on and is unbuckling his seat-belt and hers before he’s quite done putting the car in park. 

“Answer me right now, mama.” There’s an unsaid  _ “or-else” _ that nevertheless comes through very clearly.

“Wait, what? Why did you stop the car?” Elizabeth protests.

“Come right here, Elizabeth.” He means astride him. Elizabeth whimpers. She wants to defy him but he’s got a dangerous look in his eye; as though he will brook no argument. 

So she starts naming her cravings, “Nuts… chocolate…” 

He cuts her off with a growl and a, “Too little, too late, sweetheart. Come here and I won’t call you again.” 

“Stop threatening me, Rio. It’s just the regular things.” 

Why does she feel so frantic? Is it the I’ve-asked-you-once-I’ve-asked-you-twice-and-I-won’t-ask-again expression on his face? 

He bodily lifts her out of her seat and across the center console and halfway there she thinks she realises resistance is not a viable option so she gets herself the rest of the way onto his lap straddling him. 

“New deal, Elizabeth; if I have a baby-question that you might reasonably be expected to know the answer to and you are so stubborn as to refuse to answer it, this is what will happen. You get to stop what you are doing and bring yourself to me or I will come and get you myself and make you sit here and tell baby-daddy exactly what he needs to know,” Rio says. 

From his expression, Elizabeth knows that these are not idle words.

“You can’t be serious…” Elizabeth splutters. 

“Oh…” he chuckles. “Oh but I am. And you  _ know _ I will find you.”

“Rio… stop it…”

“You don’t like it, you take it up with H.R, yeah?” 

They both hear it, the unsaid echo of that night he smashed the neon corvette; “Who is H.R?” 

And maybe Rio is feeling a malicious little mood coming on; like he wants to be an asshole and he is too cranky to try not to be. Yeah, he knows it’s childish but his emotions have been out of whack since he drove off from the lake-house. So he starts laughing; at Carman’s then ridiculous question, “Who is H.R?”

And although a wicked little gleam flickers in Elizabeth’s eye, she comes to Dean’s defence, “Stop it, Rio. Stop being a jerk.”

He does. He tries not to be an asshole and maybe it’s easy enough because Elizabeth’s cleavage is in his face. So he pushes her dress off her shoulders, and tugs the cups of her bra down; he bares those beautiful breasts and latches his mouth onto one nipple. He takes his time about it; licking it, flicking his tongue over it, biting on it then drawing it back into his mouth and sucking on it. And all the while, Rio hums his satisfaction before doing the same to the other nipple. It gives him a rush to see the little hickeys he left earlier this morning.

He tells Elizabeth, “See; I can be good, mama. I can be so good, mami when you’re in my mouth. You should be in my mouth more, Elizabeth.” She flushes. 

Then he tells her the thing that he had wanted to tell her in the morning. He almost resents that she’s making him say this out loud but he spells it out just the same, “Elizabeth, I haven’t had four kids. So what’s regular for you isn’t for me; so just tell me everything, mama. Tell me everything so I can give it to you. I really want to know, okay?”

Elizabeth remembers,  _ “I’ll be there, darling. For you and for the baby. For every last minute of it,” _ and the breathlessly ardent look on his face as he had said those words so she holds his face in her hands and says,  **“nuts.”** He nods. She kisses him…  **“Dark chocolate.”** He nods again. She kisses him again…  **“Sometimes, cola in the middle of the night for no reason at all.”**

He nods with every yearning she names.  _ Fuck!  _ His baby really is making her crave things; things he can actually give her. He can’t wait to give them to her. 

_kiss_ … **“sometimes ice-cream”** _kiss_ … **“sometimes…Pizza…”** _kiss_ … **“sometimes pickles”** _kiss_ … **“nachos”** _kiss_ … **“sometimes, I’m at work and then I’m just suddenly dying for a mango.”**

Rio grins and nods some more. He loves this.  _ Christ! _ He loves this so much.  _ Did Rhea have cravings? Goddamn Elizabeth. Goddammit, sweet mami. You want _ **_things._ ** _ Why is this such a turn-on? Jesus!  _

Elizabeth pauses. She seems to hesitate then continues; **“sometimes… you…”**

Her mouth is right against his but she doesn’t kiss him. She sounds half-tortured when she says, “Sometimes you…and then I…” Her voice trails off.

Rio inhales a long, slow breath. “Me… and then you?”

Elizabeth murmurs, “And then…”

“And then what, mami…tell me, sweetheart.”

“And then at 2 am, I just…” Elizabeth suppresses a small shiver. He feels it run down her spine just the same.

“You just…”

“I’m thinking of you and…”

Rio swallows. Maybe he doesn’t want to know this. Maybe it’s making him so hard already. Maybe it’s going to make sleeping so much harder than it already is and now he’ll be lying in his bed at 2am wondering if she’s thinking of him or sleeping. Maybe he doesn’t need to know this. 

He _wants_ to know. He _has_ to know;“You’re thinking of me and…?”

“I need you…doing what you do to me.”

He leans his head against the headrest, closes his eyes, nods, swallows, groans softly. The eagle on his neck shifts and shifts…and shifts. It takes all his composure to send her back to her seat.  _ Christ!  _ He’s dying to satisfy  **_all_ ** of her cravings. 

He drives her home and maybe now he’s found his equanimity and he can happily drop her off outside her house and watch her go inside to Carman. She’s got so many longings he can’t –absolutely can’t- wait to satisfy. 

_ Fuckin’ hell! She needs me at 2am.  _ He runs the knuckles of his left hand down his jaw and starts the car.  _ Goddammit, Elizabeth; how is a man supposed to sleep knowing that? You need me at 2 am! I’m fucked.  _

**Rio:** _ cab radio screaming _

_ Noise and tears, Death on the TV,  _

**_And then there's you_ **

**_It's fucked, it's crazy_ **

_ I can't concentrate _

_ I just see your outline _

_ A dead-eyed actress girl  _

_ And then there's you _

**_Venus in Converse_ **

**_You put a spell on me_ **

**_And you're lockin' up the bathroom door for us_ **

_ Back where we left off _

_ Watch you take your dress off _

_ I've been by myself remembering you _

_ Your body hurts me _

_ Loopin' 'round like CCTV _

_ In all this bitterness, you stay so sweet _

_ It's such a cruel world _

_ I’m saving all my love for you _

_ Woah, maybe I found somethin' good _

_ Who do you love, who do you love? _

_ We ain't slept for days _

**_Perfect disaster_ **

**_Me and you_ **

**Mood music Credit: Cruel** by **Snakehips** feat  **Zayn**


	40. The Road to Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road to hell is paved with good intentions. That's what Rio finds out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you illbeyourbatman for sharing Fairplay by Kiana Lede.
> 
> It's our mood music for this chapter. And an odd little twist, it's for brio not beth and Dean.

**_The Road To Hell_ **

**Beth:** _I think it's kind of funny_

_You could say you love me_

_Turn around and play me, yeah_

_I flip the script on you_

_Tell me why you mad_

_Tell me why you're hurt_

_Bet you didn't think that the tables would turn_

_You gon' fuck around_

_I'mma do the same_

_How you like that karma?_

_Yeah, that's just fairplay_

\--

 **Rio:** _I'm facing the karma, yeah_

_I'm guilty as hell,_

_I come and lay you down_

_What goes around comes back around_

_Guess I wasn't ready for that fairplay_

**Mood Music Credit: Fairplay** by **Kiana Lede**

  
  
  


_The road to hell is paved with good intentions._

Rio can’t shake that thought. He can’t; because now he thinks he’s in hell. Or on the way there at least. And he thinks the way there has been littered with nothing but his good intentions and his well-meaning but ultimately tactless actions and Elizabeth’s complete misunderstanding of them.

He thinks back to Tuesday morning –the morning after he took her to the lake house; about picking her up from her house and sitting outside in the car while she reluctantly went and opened the bank account he _told_ her to open. 

Then he thinks of how he told her, with no warning at all, that he was cutting her off, wasn’t cutting her in anymore; wasn’t going to give her 12% off the top anymore. 

“I would really just like to know where you’re going.”

“Oh, you will,” Rio had said.

“When?” Elizabeth had responded.

“When we get there,” he had rejoined.

Yes, Rio knows. He could just have answered her. But that’s the thing though; _if I give her inch, she’ll take the fuckin’ mile._ He had just needed to reestablish boundaries. Make it clear that this interaction was business. Not personal. And on the business side of things; he sure as hell shouldn’t have to explain himself.

And _fuck it!_ Maybe he had been feeling exposed; after the previous day at the lake house, he feels as though he’d let down his guard too far. Because he had been just so fuckin’ happy with her on Monday. So he’d had to put his guard back up on Tuesday. 

Better than anyone else, Elizabeth knows when he’s being deliberately cold towards her…so she had picked up on the change in him immediately. 

“If there’s a problem…” she had started to say. He had cut her off. 

“How much cut have you got now?” _Can’t give you an inch, mama._

“I don’t know.”

  
  


“Where’s it all going, Elizabeth?”

“What do you mean?”

“What are you buying with it?” She hadn’t responded; had just gone really quiet and looked out the window. Then he’d had the sudden funny feeling that his intuition was right. She was up to no good again. _Goddammit, mama. What are you up to? How are you trying to screw me over this time?_

“Yeah, see… that’s why we’re here.”

Then he had shown her the drive-through carwash and how he turns his income from the shady side of things and hides it in the profits from his legitimate businesses. She’d been anxious. Too jumpy even for her. See, Rio knows she was unnecessarily jumpy because she kept on talking. Kept on opening that _sweet, lying mouth of hers_ and saying things. Unprovoked things. Odd things. Like offering to change up the drop-off times so he could pick up the funny-money sooner. 

_That’s strange,_ Rio had thought to himself. Because really, he’d never had this issue before. With Elizabeth, deliveries were late; never early. So why was she suddenly offering to deliver his money sooner?

That’s when his spidey senses had really started to tingle; when he had suddenly felt that same squirrely feeling as the night she took the safety off the gun he’d brought her and held it pointed at him as he walked away bleeding from the dagger wound in his chest that she had just inflicted on him. 

Sitting with her in the car driving through the dimness of the carwash, he had felt that same chill go down his spine. _Someone’s tap-dancing on my grave,_ he remembers thinking. _What are you doing with it, mami?_ Because one thing Elizabeth isn’t doing is buying furniture. And he had seen her lips part when he reached for the glove compartment and for a second he had thought it was just his proximity –yes, he knows; _it’s arrogant to think she wants me so bad. But she does… just like I want her so fuckin’ bad all the time._

Even then, in the car with her, with all his instincts screaming at him that she was hatching a plot against him, he had struggled not to meet her eyes because if he had, he knows he would have wanted to kiss those parted lips, touch his baby under her coat… take her home and take off that coat and the sweater underneath it and see those obscenely lush nipples and put his mou… _Aaaaaah, fuck!_ He’s hard just thinking about it. 

_Focus, Rio!_ Right; he had seen her lips part and he had thought she was thinking about him close to her but then realization had hit; anxiety. Because after her lips parted, she suddenly pressed them together and gnawed on her lip in that way she does when she gets stressed out.

In the end he asked Elizabeth again where the money was going. He winces when he remembers what he said to her.

“So the last time you were cash heavy things got tricky. Because you and your girls went stupid and burned it with the feds.” Out of the corner of his eye he had seen her glare. Had known he had just pissed her off. _Why do I do that though? It wasn’t absolutely necessary to use the word stupid_ . So maybe he likes to push her buttons; _so sue me,_ Rio thinks _._

“You don’t turn this properly, you attract attention. You need a system.” He had looked at her. And she wouldn’t look at him. _There’s that squirrely feeling again,_ he remembers thinking. _Goddammit, look at me, Elizabeth. Show me those beautiful blue eyes, darling._ He had known she wouldn’t. Because that’s where the truth is; in her eyes and she knows he knows. 

Then she said she kept it somewhere safe. 

“What, like a mattress?” he had almost chuckled. Because _By God!_ Wouldn’t that just be the fuckin’ weirdest thing; for him to have provided her the mattress under which to hide her money. 

“Yeah.”

“So when I was in there this morning, I should have looked? Wanna go back and you can _show me your bed_ , sweetheart?”

Elizabeth had flushed; thinking of the implied sex they could have. Rio had been glad that he was about to step out and leave Mick to drop her off back home. Glad because he’d wanted to kick himself for breaking character. For slipping back into flirting with her. but here’s the thing; she’d just been opening _her sweet, lying mouth_ and telling him lies.

And God help him, because he can’t seem to help himself. Because whenever she opens that _sweet mouth and lies_ to him… _Christ!_ It does something to him. It undoes him. Undoes his resolve. Makes him want to put her over his knee and spank her then… 

Rio had gulped. He would have cursed his traitorous body but he’s starting to resign himself to it. His stupid body wants nothing more than _her_ body. To lose itself in hers; to sink into her and… _Fuck! I just did that yesterday,_ he had told himself and tried to talk himself out of the hard-on that was making him achy.

_It’s the baby._ Rio now tells himself that he's feeling wild and a bit dangerous because of the baby in her. Because since she told him a week ago that she was still having his baby, his body has lost all pretensions, all inhibitions when it comes to her; and now his body just craves hers and craves hers and craves hers until he caves.

_It’s the baby. It’s sitting there watching her lie to me and seeing –recognizing- those lies for what they are._ And knowing that nobody else could see them just as nobody else had yet seen his baby. _And the baby; knowing that all the while she’s fighting with me and plotting against me, my baby is in her. And she’s not going to stop screwing me over because she’s goddamn Elizabeth._ _And why do those two things make me so hot for her? The baby in her belly and the damn lies out of **her sweet, sweet lying mouth?**_

_Christ! My baby is in her._ That thought made him go back to see her that night. Hell, that thought almost made him turn the car around and drive her right back to her house or to his loft right then so he could take off her damn clothes and look at that bump on her belly and kiss his baby and try not to hit it but then ultimately cave and tap her till she begged for him to stop _or not stop_ whichever came first. 

So yeah, that thought made him go back to see her at her house that Tuesday night. That thought and the memory of her saying that sometimes she needs him at 2am. That’s why he went to see her; so he could hold her and his baby for a minute or five… maybe pull her astride him and make her moan her orgasm into his ear then send her back into her house on shaky legs to sleep… but instead, somehow everything went to hell. 

  
  


And now three nights later, parked outside her house in the dark, he can almost see why everything is all up in the air; he can almost explain to himself how they ended up on this fuckin’ rollercoaster again. And he feels like he might be to blame for most of it. He thinks he’s man enough to admit that he messed up. It’s just that…

_Goddamn Elizabeth. Goddammit, mama. Why the fuck is everything so hard with you? We’re on that damn rollercoaster again, mami. We’ve been going down the incline for three days. I just wanna go up again; where are you, ma? Goddammit, Elizabeth._ He fiddles with his phone then puts it back in his jacket. 

Rio sighs. He knows he messed up. Elizabeth overreacted but he knows he made it unnecessarily worse. _Where are you, sweetheart?_ He hates it; hates how he feels. Hates that he’s parked outside her house on a Friday night at half past midnight waiting for her to get home and she still hasn’t. It’s making him insane… a little bit crazy. _What mad thing are you doing to screw me over now? Fuck!_

Then he thinks that maybe she just went to see her friend or her sister and he’s definitely not doing that round of visits. **_Where_ ** _are you, sweetheart? I just need to talk to you._ He hates himself even more. He runs through the last three days in his mind. _Oy, I really fucked up. Goddammit, mama. I was just jealous._

He still is; until he sees _fuckin’ carman_ arrive home alone at 1am to a dark and empty house. Then Rio’s jealousy is just suddenly… Gone. Dissipated.

He thinks that if he, Rio, were coming home to their house –to a house he shared with Elizabeth- that house would not be cold or dark or empty. And Elizabeth would either be with him or asleep with her head on _his_ pillow or waiting up in bed for him to get home. One way or the other, he would be getting home to take off her pajamas and… 

He’s hard in his jeans. It’s not even been a full day since he was orgasming into her but _Christ!_ It feels like he hasn’t hit it in forever and he needs… _Goddammit, Elizabeth. Where are you, darling?_

At 2am, he gives up and drives off home. He’s thinking about Tuesday night again…

  
  
  
  


**Brio:** _I'm jealous, I'm overzealous_

_When I'm down, I get real down_

_When I'm high, I don't come down_

_I get angry, baby, believe me_

_I could love you just like that_

_And I could leave you just as fast_

_\--_

**Brio:** _You do shit on purpose_

_You get mad and you break things_

_Feel bad, try to fix things_

_But you're perfect_

_Poorly wired circuit_

_And got hands like an ocean_

_Push you out, pull you back in_

_\--_

**Brio:** _'Cause I got issues_

_But you got 'em too_

_Yeah, I got issues_

_And one of them is how bad I need you_

**Mood Music Credit: Issues** by **Julia Michaels**


	41. A Storm in a Teacup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two words brew a vicious little storm.

**_A Storm in a Teacup_ **

**Brio:** _In the moment, I meant it,_

_But I shouldn’t have said it_

_See that you’re guilty too_

_But you handle things so fuckin’ passive aggressively_

_I know, I know, I know, I know I should say, “sorry”_

_Wait, how am I apologizing_

_For something that you started_

_Know I overreacted_

_And I’ll apologise for that_

**Mood Music Credit: Shouldn’t Have Said It by Julia Michaels**

  
  
  


Sometimes, when you least expect it, a storm in a teacup happens. 

It comes out of nowhere; arising from previously perfectly blue skies on a warm and sunny day. An event or a confluence of freak events which on their own are each perfectly meaningless and innocuous somehow end up brewing such outrage, such an unexpected flurry of actions and counter-actions that eventually, you’re left holding a teacup… and out of it, a level five hurricane is about to explode. 

Then, if you’re smart, you gently put the cup down outside the house, hunker down, ride out the storm and hope your house of cards is still standing when the storm passes. And you know, _you know,_ that if your house is still standing, everything else can be fixed. Because this storm is just the mindless fury of a moment. So your mind goes, _please don’t let this damn house of cards collapse. Please don’t let our stupid, stupid house of cards…_

Sometimes though, instead of hunkering down, we’re out there in the storm hurling rocks at our own goddamn house. _And that’s crazy, right?_ Rio thinks. _So why did I do it? Why’d I fuckin’ say all that?_ The answer is clear in his mind; _It’s the stuff she says; goading me. Making me fuckin’ insane. And she knows what she’s doing trying to make me jealous… again._ _Yep_ . That makes sense to Rio. _It fuckin’ worked too; goddammit._

Also, where Elizabeth’s concerned, Rio acknowledges that sometimes he’s just a fuckin’ child… and maybe he can admit that sometimes he brings the trouble on himself. 

\--

On Tuesday night, he is literally sitting there with his hand on Elizabeth’s belly –on his baby- and thinking, _I’m happy. It can’t last. Please let it last._ _It won’t last. Will it? I am just so perfectly fuckin’ happy. It won’t last._ _Please let it last._ _Can it?_ _Will it? I’m so..._ when he says two words.

And he swears that right in front of his eyes, he sees those two words take form; take on a whole fuckin’ life of their own; stand on their own two goddamn feet, reach for a long sword and drive that cruel blade into his happiness. And he knows his perfect little happiness has just been gutted and is lying dying in front of him. And he’s the one who did it. Him and just two words from his damn mouth.

“Hello, darling.”

He calls her darling. 

And Elizabeth hates it. And if previously she’s hated the word _darling_ coming from his mouth, never so much as she hates the sound of it now. It infuriates her. Drives her fuckin’ crazy. And Rio sees the crazy come into Elizabeth’s eyes and then she’s stepping out of his car and slamming the door and she’s gone in the night and back into her house. 

_Fuck!_ And Elizabeth is already in her house and he knows she won’t come out again for him tonight; wild horses wouldn’t drag her out. And just a few minutes before the sound of her front door slamming shut, he had been happy. Happy and thinking it. And the edges of his happiness had been laced with fear as they always are but mostly he had just been happy and thinking it. 

Then the fuckin’ phone rang. 

And it was Mei. Mei who is still talking on the phone. Mei who can’t possibly be back to do business because she didn’t leave long enough ago. 

Mei who should be someplace on the other side of the world in a place that feels to her like home. Mei who when she left implied she would probably be in Asia or on her G6 to god-only-knows-where; somewhere…anywhere… just not… _here._

Mei who exists on the fringes of business and who drifts with Rio right up to the line between the business and the personal parts of Rio’s life. Mei who is _almost_ but not quite a friend. Mei who he never lets cross into his personal life because he’d recognized the danger in that; if she slipped just once past his defences, he’d never be able to root her out; she is too good at hiding, playing chameleon, imitating anything she thinks one needs. Mei who never calls outside of business hours. Mei who is now calling him at nearly 1am. 

Rio ignores the first call and puts the phone back in his pocket. But then it rings again. And again… and again. 

Mei who won’t be ignored. 

So Rio opens his mouth and with his hand on Elizabeth’s belly does the stupid thing; he says, “Hello, Darling,” and then takes his hand off Elizabeth and leans back in his seat to listen to Mei. 

_“Hello, Darling.”_

Just like that. Just like he always has. Only this time, he thinks he sees Elizabeth see fuckin’ red… and green. Red with anger. Green with jealousy. 

_Fuck!_ And Mei is still on the phone and she sounds rushed and anxious and she’s giving him dates and times and places and Rio wants to tell her to slow down but he’s sort of transfixed by the anger and the jealousy in Elizabeth’s eyes. 

Rio reaches for Elizabeth; She ducks; tugs her hand out of his and 

**_her sweet, lying mouth_ **opens and says very calmly, “It’s late and I’m exhausted. I’ll leave you to it, okay?” So Rio says, “Mama…” and reaches again for her hand but her hand is on the door handle now and 

**_her sweet, lying mouth_ ** smiles at him and if he didn’t know her he would think he was off the hook and she wasn’t jealous or angry but he does; he thinks he knows her now. And Rio is certain, that for an instant he saw a twist in 

**_her sweet, lying mouth_ **and he knows what that little twist means; insecurity. Just like the afternoon, she took off her coat and boots for him in her bedroom and he smiled at her mismatched socks and then made her a baby. But the insecurity he’s just seen in that twist is several orders of magnitude greater than anything he’s ever seen on her face. Yet still 

**_her sweet, sweet lying mouth_** breathes a purring “Goodnight” and he can’t stop her fast enough and on the phone Mei is saying “Toronto…” and “emeralds or sapphires…jewels…” and “gun to…” and “I’m in real trouble here…” and Rio thinks that the fact that his attention is split between Elizabeth and the phone into which he just stupidly said, “Hello, darling” makes it all worse. It irritates Elizabeth that much more; drives the final nail into the coffin in which his mindless little happiness now lies. He knows; she hates it. She hates it when he gives her less than his undivided attention. Then

**_her sweet, sweet lying mouth_ ** is gone, smiling and twisting into the darkness. But a moment before she opens the door and steps out, Rio looks in the rearview mirror at the strip of light spilling out from Elizabeth’s front door and he knows who is coming down the drive and when Elizabeth opens the door, Rio hears the words, “Give me my fuckin’ wife…” followed by “Beth, what are you doing, Beth?” 

Then the car door slams shut and she’s gone and fuckin’ carman is stalking behind her and he looks angry… angry and jealous. There’s a whole lot of that going round tonight. And Rio feels glad that he is stuck on the phone with Mei right now because otherwise he would be headed inside that house to kick _fuckin’ carman’s_ ass and he can’t find a reason to justify that urge except _his own_ jealousy and anger. 

Then Rio recognizes that feeling in his chest; anxiety. Because now he thinks things between himself and Elizabeth are about to go south… very, very rapidly south. He rolls his right shoulder and thinks that though

**_her sweet, sweet lying mouth_** smiled as sweetly at him as it had five minutes ago, he knows the lie from the truth; 

The truth; it’s in her eyes. That’s where it has always been.

The lie; it’s in

**_her sweet, lying mouth_ ** and although she was smiling, he knows, _he knows,_ what he has seen; the fuckin’ crazy come into her eyes; and he knows from what that crazy is made; jealousy and anger, so smoothly distilled that it might as well be the 90 proof bourbon she favours; _Whittingham’s Bourbon._ And he’s tried that bourbon; it goes down really smoothly but then it packs a nasty punch.

_Fuck! Because I called Mei “darling.”_

Mei is still talking and Rio hasn’t really understood a word. He asks her to repeat herself. She sounds upset at that but she does. She’s in trouble. She had a deal planned and one of her suppliers didn’t deliver; didn’t show up to a business meeting and now she’s on the hook for 7.2 million by 4pm Saturday to a buyer who thinks she’s trying to double-cross him. She’s got a gun to her head right now; Rio inhales sharply. His imagination treats him to an image of Mei dead from a gunshot to the head and he shudders. 

_Are you even kidding me right now, Mei?_ Rio thinks. He wants to yell at her that he doesn’t have 7.2 million in cash and what the fuck was she doing, doing business with unreliable partners. That even if he liquidates his assets it will take time. He doesn’t think he can get the 7.2 in 3 days.

Then she does something he never thought he’d ever hear her do: she sniffles. Rio curses. He hates it. _Noooo… Goddammit._ He’s not doing the waterworks show with Mei. He’s only got the emotional aptitude for Elizabeth’s tears and that’s it. Maybe Rhea’s or Gretchen’s in a pinch. But he can’t quite imagine Zorada crying. He scoffs to himself. It’s not as though he ever imagined Mei crying. 

But then again, you’d cry too with a gun to your head. 

“Can the waterworks, Mei. They’re not helping your case.” He hardens his voice; he can’t have her falling apart. He hardens his voice; because just right this minute, he’s feeling irrationally angry at her. 

Because he was just soft and called her darling and now Elizabeth is jealous and angry and he knows he’s about to catch it. And Rio thinks that maybe he has always enjoyed Elizabeth’s anger and jealousy; they’re the only thing he has from her until the day she finally decides she’s choosing him, loving him. _Will she ever?_ But now he thinks that maybe he would have settled for the kind of happiness he’s had for the last few days even if she never tells him she loves him. Maybe he doesn’t need the words; maybe he doesn’t even want her jealousy, possessiveness or anger. Maybe he just needs her to let him hold her and the baby when he needs to.

And he was happy 3 minutes ago. Just 3 fuckin’ minutes ago. 

Who’s your buyer, Mei?” She hesitates to answer. 

Rio grits out from between clenched teeth, “If you want my help, you’d better tell me everything I need to know.” Mei hesitates again. 

“Mei, I’m hanging up this phone right now. I don’t have time to pull teeth and play stupid games.” 

It turns out that she’s made a deal with an associate from Toronto whose partner is Terrence’s son, Jeremy. _Terrence’s son!_ Terrence who Rio has been in a fight with every damn day since he got back? Rio wants to hit something. She’s making deals that indirectly give away his business and actively put money in his rivals’ hands and when the deals fall through she has the audacity to call asking for his help.

He’s furious. “Tell me why I should do this, Mei,” Rio keeps his tone icy. “Gimme just one reason why I should even lift a finger to help you, Mei when you’re making money with the wrong people. ‘Cause now, maybe I think if he puts a bullet in you, he’ll be out 7.2mill and I’ll be out one faithless associate and I think both of those things can only help me.” 

She sounds shocked… afraid. Then she says one word. “Please.” Rio thinks he hears a pleading note to it. 

He sighs. “Lemme see what I can do, Mei. No promises.” _You twist in the wind for a few hours, darling,_ Rio thinks. Then, _Fuck! I gotta stop doing that, don’t I? I have to stop calling her darling. Christ! Then I have to talk to Elizabeth. Why are you so mad though, mama? It’s just a word._

He hangs up and realizes that he’s feeling wrathful. It’s not the money that’s the issue between him and Mei; she’s good for it. She’ll always be good for it. It’s her putting money in Terrence’s pocket that’s making him angry. He thought they had more trust than that going between them. 

Plus there’s also only one way to finance this little rescue mission and Rio’s not amused about what he has to do. He has to see _the banker._ And goddammit he has enough debts as things are so he doesn’t know why he is incurring more debt for Mei. Mei who went behind his back. Mei who he won’t let take a bullet; not if he can help it. _Fuck!_

Anyway, he can scrounge together 2 million in the next 3 days, no problem. Along with Mei’s pouch of sapphires, that comes to approximately 6.5 to 6.7 million and he only needs 600 Grand more but if he takes financing from Merrick _-the banker_ , he’s going to pay a steep interest rate; usually 40-50%. _Merrick is the worst kind of shark._ But Rio has to admit to himself that the guarantee of absolute privacy with every transaction is worth every penny.

And the fact that Rio is so invested in hiding his sources of cash means he doesn’t exactly have too much loose change lying around. His money works for him. It doesn’t just sit idling around in banks so he doesn’t exactly have many available options. _Goddammit, Mei._

So now he needs to ask Elizabeth to print him close to 1 million. And he won’t be able to clean it in three days. He just has to give it up to Merrick with a guarantee that he will turn it to clean money in a week or two. He will pay a steep price for what is essentially an unsecured loan. But they’ve done business before so he’ll get the cash. But if Elizabeth doesn’t print that cash, he might end up having to pay much more than 50% interest. 

And Elizabeth’s just not going to do what he needs. After tonight? _Goddamn! It’s just a word, mama. It means nothing._ Elizabeth’s just not going to do it. And Rio knows it. But he has to try. For Mei. _We’ll just fight about it,_ he knows. 

_Fuck!_ Also, this is the absolute worst time to need anything from Elizabeth. Coz just earlier today, he told her he is not cutting her in anymore because he doesn’t know what she is doing with her money. Where’s she been taking it? And although she hadn’t reacted, he knows she had been annoyed about it. Mick said she was irritated when he stopped by IHOP. That she didn’t even go in; she just sat in the car and waited while Mick got his pancakes and burger. _Goddammit, mama. It’s just a word._

  
  


\--- 

_**Long Night All Around** _

_In the middle of a long night_

_Tell myself I'm alright_

_'Til I'm numb, so numb_

_In the darkest place in my mind_

_Somewhere in that long night_

_I can't let go, I need to know_

_Are you with someone else?_

_I don't think about you_

_I don't think about you_

_'Til I'm alone, 'til I'm alone_

_And thinking about you with someone else_

**Mood Music Credit: Someone else by Duncan Laurence**

That’s why Rio was here; because he was off the clock and so was she. Because he knows he annoyed her in the morning. So he wanted to see her, make her feel better, hold her and the baby. Show her he’s still there. Remind her that the business stuff and the personal stuff are separate; that he’s still there for her and the baby. That she can count on him. _Goddammit, Mei; why couldn’t you have fuckin’ called on any other night?_

If Elizabeth was annoyed before, now she must be furious; absolutely livid. And once she knows he wants the money printed _for_ _Mei_ , he is absolutely fucked. 

He wants to go in that house and get her out and talk to her. But _fuckin’ carman_ looked about ready to start a fight and Rio knows that if he goes in there right now, he’ll put another slug in carman. Maybe he’ll empty the whole clip this time. 

Then Rio thinks that maybe he’s also had enough of being Elizabeth’s side-piece because she’s rageful about him calling Mei _darling_ but she’s got a whole, entire husband who sleeps in her bed. _In her fuckin’ bed…_ w _hile she’s pregnant with my baby._ Yeah… he can feel his own rage coming to the surface. 

It’s all downhill from there. Suddenly, despite being all wrapped up in their feelings for each other, they’re in this fight that both want to admit that they’d rather not have. That each one wants to admit they’d rather just kiss and make-up from. But they don’t; kiss and make-up or admit they want to… 

Instead, they just… 

have angry sex... 

lots and lots of…

angry sex.

Because they know how to say words but not really communicate. Because they are both coming from a place of jealousy and anger… a place of something neither of them would ever admit to… a place of deep and abiding fear… 

Fear of losing; 

Losing themselves…

Losing each other…

Losing _to_ each other…

Losing this endless fight they’ve been in since the afternoon Rio put the baby in Elizabeth and she kicked him out of her bed. 

Fear of the need that sits inside them and won’t ever leave, won’t ever be sated except when they’re together.

Fear of betrayal. 

Fear that never ends. 

Fear.

So it’s all downhill from there. And they both know it’s puerile but neither one can be the bigger person. Not now. Maybe not ever. 

_“Give me my fuckin’ wife…”_

Rio’s jaw locks and he thinks he’s had about his limit.

And Rio thinks he really, really just wants to go in there and kick _fuckin’ carman’s_ ass _._

He only just manages to talk himself off that ledge.

**چوچو**

He takes the long way home; tries to get himself calm; tells himself that he shouldn’t care if fuckin’ carman sleeps next to her; reminds himself that he _doesn’t_ in fact care that carman sleeps beside her because -and Rio would bet good money on this- he knows that Carman barely manages to _sleep_ in that bed. 

Rio climbs into his bed and reassures himself that Elizabeth thinks about him and needs him; needs him at 2 am. But he can’t quite manage to sleep; he tosses and turns and thinks about Elizabeth angry because he called Mei “darling” and he feels defiant yet still inexplicably guilty about it. 

Then he gets livid again because Carman is asleep next to her. Then Rio tells himself he’s overthinking it and what he hasn’t cared about before he shouldn’t start caring about now. But he thinks that maybe something changed three nights ago when he found out that Elizabeth is still having his baby and now it irritates him to think of her and the baby in bed next to Carman when they should be in his, Rio’s bed.

_Calm the fuck down, Rio!_ He tells himself to relax. He slips into a conversation with himself.

 _Dude, stop obsessing; You didn’t care about carman yesterday so why give a fuck now?_ **_It’s the fuckin’ double standard._ **

_Yeah… because she was married all along and that never pissed you off before, right?_ **_Guess not._ **

_Hahaha, that’s almost funny. Christ! You’re not exactly self-aware, are you?_ **_What’s that supposed to mean?_ **

_If her dumbass husband didn’t annoy you… if you weren’t out to get him… why’d you put a bullet in him first chance you got, you bastard?_ **_Well, I couldn’t very well shoot HER, could I? Plus the dumbass decided to fight back._ **

_What was he supposed to do? Sit there and take it when you were pounding on him and was obviously there for his wife?_ ** _You know_** **_I wasn’t going to hurt her._**

 _Yeah? But HE didn’t know that._ **_Let’s not pretend that dumbass is somehow the good guy in all this._ **

_Neither are you though._ **_She’s having my baby. I’m allowed to be irritable if she’s fuckin’ sleeping with some other guy next to her._ **

_But he’s not just some other guy, is he?_ **_Fuck off. And I think we’re back to the beginning of the conversation again._ **

_So can we just acknowledge that you’ve wanted to get rid of him for the longest time? And can you just admit that urge is only driven by your envy for what he has?_ **_He doesn’t have her. He’s barely holding onto her._ **

_And yet, tonight you heard him ask you for his fuckin’ wife._ **_He doesn’t have her, okay? She’s fuckin’ mine._ **

_Yeah? So how come she’s in that bed and not this bed?_ **_So we agree; I have a reason to be mad about that._ **

  
  


_How come she keeps choosing everything but you?_ **_Yeah, how come she keeps choosing everything but me? Choose me, darling. Goddammit, Elizabeth. Choose me, sweetheart. Love me. Fuck!_ **

_That ain’t how this works. You could think it a thousand times and it makes no difference if she doesn’t hear it from you or think it herself._ ** _Yeah. But here’s the thing though; I think she thinks about it. I think she wants to choose me but she’s scared of losing her kids. But I can make sure she keeps them. Zorada will stomp on carman for her. Failing that,_** ** _I_** **_will stomp on carman for her._**

 _Hilarious because she doesn’t know that, does she?_ **_I can’t tell her; she has to choose me first. I won’t plead for her. That’s where I draw the line._ **

  
  


_Classic catch-22 situation, ain’t it? You want her to choose you but she’s can’t because she’s scared. And she won’t know to not be scared and that you’ve got her until she chooses you._ **_Yep! Round and round we fuckin’ go. What’s that song say again?_ **

_Which one? The Eminem one; Twisted?_ **_Yeah… the thing Yelawolf says, You gotta see the pattern of the blood on the steering wheel. Love is a cannibal riding a carnival carousel; round and round we go._ **

_Truer words were never spoken and what-not;_ **_Love ain’t no fairytale; love is a buried nail inside this heart of stone. Jesus!_ **

_Dude, you know it; you know she thinks you’ve got a heart of stone. Plus she really is the thorn in your side._ **_The stain on my blade, the blood on my knife. And I HAVE been dreaming of her and she won’t come true, will she? She’s just my beautiful nightmare. Christ!_ **

  
  


_Yeah. And now she’s mad about you calling Mei “darling”._ **_And I’m mad about her and fuckin’ carman. So?_ **

_That’s my point exactly. You weren’t this mad until you started feeling guilty about that “Hello darling.”_ **_Um… what? it’s not fake outrage if that’s what you’re suggesting._ **

_Nah. I’m not. I’m just saying maybe you’d rather flip the script than face up to the fact that you messed up. How daft are you to still be calling Mei “darling” anyway? And in that voice?_ **_It’s just a word._ **

  
  


_Denial, you jerk… ain’t just a river in Egypt, is it? Oh and I predict you’re about to catch it._ **_I know, I know, I’m about to catch it, thanks a lot for that, Mr. I-can-predict-the-fuckin’-future. Why couldn’t you have predicted this mess, genius?_ **

_I didn’t tell you to open your mouth and be unfiltered in front of your baby-mama. Dude! Who does that? And it’s Elizabeth; she won’t take it lying down._ **_I’m so fucked, aren’t I? Can’t even fight back when she goes off at me; I have to tread softly ‘cause of the baby. Is she always going to be this fuckin’ jealous in future?_ **

  
  


_Get over yourself, you sanctimonious bastard. First of all, you like it when she’s jealous. Second, Remember the stuff you did just because she kicked you out of her bed? And weren’t we just talking about you putting a bullet in Carman first chance you got just because you wanted her and couldn’t have her? Oh, oh… and let’s not forget how you were only too happy to touch her in front of him; running those hands all over her hair, face and neck before you shot him? Literally shooting him wasn’t enough. You had to stick it to him first by touching her? Zorada was right; you did a lot of stupid before and clearly, you’re not done doing it._ **_Aaaargh! That’s in the past so please; forgetfulness is a gift sometimes and you won’t even let me have that, will you?_ **

  
  


_While we’re on the subject of carman, remember smashing the corvette because she wouldn’t let you tell him what you did? T_ **_hat cheesy-ass bucket needed to be smashed; I consider it a service to the dealership. Carman should have thanked me._ **

_Yeah? For schtupping his wife too? Then throwing a tantrum and destroying his merchandise?_ **_Let’s not forget I provided the capital for that little venture. I think I should at least get some credit for that._ **

_You mean you took BACK 60% of the money you already gave her?_ **_Because she gave it to her fuckin’ husband._ **

  
  


_And finally we get the truth; you’ve despised that dumbass for the longest time; from the very first time you saw his photograph._ **_Yeah… so what?_ **

_Jeez, Louisa! Let me spell it out, dummy. So…. You KNEW she was married from day one even when you were rubbing that string of pearls and coming to fantasies of her and wishing you could take her from him. And now you’ve fucked up. And she’s going to make you pay for it and you don’t have the moral high ground because you acted out like a fuckin’ child when she wouldn’t choose you._

Rio kicks at his covers. Stretches and tries to settle himself again.

 _You will, YOU WILL, pay for it. And you can be as jealous as you like- just as you’ve always been- but this time, you’ll have no defence. Because while YOU knew she was married from the day you met her, SHE didn’t think you were going about calling other women “darling”… while you are hitting it with her… AND while she has your baby in her._ **_So… in short, I’m fucked?_ **

_Oh, yeah. she’s going to stick a knife in you!_ **_Christ! Can we not use that metaphor; been there, done that; had a knife stuck in me for real._ ** Rio shudders. **_I’m fucked._ **

  
  


_Exactemente! Right on the money! You are fucked. And… you did stupid in the past, you’re about to do more stupid in the future… in the NEAR future; like maybe tomorrow future. When you do do more stupid, I’ll be right here ready to remind you that…_ **_That you told me so. Why is my inner voice such an asshole? Couldn’t you try to just be a soothing presence for like just fuckin’ once?_ **

_Not my style buddy. If you’re looking for comfort, you know where to get it._ **_Yes, yes, I know where to get it; Her. Her whole fuckin’ body is just one glorious place of… yeah, let’s call it comfort. Satisfaction…Happiness. My never-ending need. Desire. Hunger. I could go on. Oy!_ **

Rio tries not to think about the aching hardness in his boxer-briefs. He curses; takes them off. His cock throbs and throbs.

  
  


_And now you’re about to be denied that lush body._ **_Haha! That’s where you’re wrong. Because if she’s jealous, the sex will only get hotter._ **

_Jokes on you; because the sex could be incendiary enough to light the whole planet on fire but… will you be happy? Like you were happy a couple of hours ago?_ **_Christ! She’s going to fuck me over, isn’t she?_ **

  
  


_Yep! She’s going to do a whole number on you. And…_ **_What, you asshole?_ **

_And she knows all your buttons and just how to push them._ **_I’m so fucked!_ **

_Yep. So you need to be really laid back. But you won’t be… and I’ll be right here; enjoying your misery and saying…_ **_You told me so. Where does one trade in an inner voice? I want a new you, you jerk._ **

_Dude, I’m the least of your worries; try to get some sleep. And you’d better pray she is calm by tomorrow. Then just don’t do stupid._

Rio doesn’t sleep. And although he hopes Elizabeth calms down, he can’t quite bring himself to pray. And he knows, _he knows,_ if she isn’t calm, he is bound to do some kind of stupid. He won’t be able to help himself; he is feeling just slightly unhinged. 

  
He lies in bed and thinks about Elizabeth and the baby in bed next to Carman and it infuriates him. Then he thinks about the string of pearls in his nightstand. At 4am, he caves and runs a tentative hand along the throbbing length of his cock. He groans; swears at himself. Then he does it again. And again; and in his mind is the memory of Elizabeth in her kitchen, standing under that naked light in her kitchen with a glass of bourbon in her hand; and of him, with the pearls in his pocket, his golden gun under his jacket; and nothing between her and the hard-on he had had then but a kitchen island and a bottle of bourbon.

_A string of fuckin’ pearls. Christ!_

He really hopes that after she has slept, she will be calm. 

It’s a futile hope; because Beth climbs into bed and stews and stews and stews in her jealousy and insecurity and rage and thinks she’ll blow her top. 

_“Hello, darling.”_

_“Darling.”_

  
  


**چوچو**

She’s overreacting. She knows she’s overreacting. She really does. Beth does. She _knows,_ she absolutely **_knows_** that she’s overreacting. And she can’t help herself. She can’t stomp it down; that jealous anger inside. She wonders whether this is how Rio had felt when he had been blackmailing her. But he’d had a good reason _– a better reason, anyway-_ to be jealous and angry, Beth tells herself. She’s kicked him out of her bed for crying out loud. She’s overreacting.

So Beth tells herself to cut it out and her brain actually does. It comes to the realization that those two words don’t justify that achy feeling inside her. But her damn heart. Her damn heart won’t listen. And now her heart is twisting in her chest and flinging itself against her ribs in a childish tantrum of epic proportions. 

And she has tried to soothe it and talk it down but it’s feeling wrathful and insecure and it wonders who that was on the phone; maybe it’s Drug-beth? Maybe it’s any number of faceless women that Rio’s has been hugging up on and loving on while she, Beth, was mortally afraid of him and yet still couldn't let go of his baby? 

Maybe it’s the woman from the night Rio came to her house and stole peach melba and apple pie and more than a little bit of her heart and now what remains of that heart won’t be quieted, it’s just going to keep throwing itself against her chest and flinging itself up into her throat and choking her and making her want to cry. And now she thinks she wants nothing more than to make him angry and hurt… 

_Good!_ That’s exactly what she’ll do. Hurt him any way she can. Because he called her darling – _whoever she is-_ and it was unthinking; like something he’s done a thousand times before; like something he does every day. Like something he _still_ does every day. _While he’s in my pants and acting like he’s so happy that I’m pregnant._

And he used the voice. _The Voice_. **_The voice._** That low, gravelly, warm, husky, honey –over-oven-roasted-almonds; that irresistible _Come-Fuck-Me-Mama_ ** _Voice_** that he uses on her, Elizabeth; _the voice_ that practically peeled off her panties just yesterday. And now he’s using it on another woman… 

Yes… it’s childish. So why can’t she, as much as she tries, why can’t she swallow that achy lump in her throat? 

But she really can’t; because she’s already had one lying, cheating husband and she knows that Rio knows it. And she knows that Rio knows that she was half-sick with jealousy the night he had the scent of another woman on him then made her, Beth, cry and beg for her orgasm from him. So he knows… she’s not indifferent. She’s really not. 

In fact, Beth knows that she’s not just _not_ indifferent; she’s more than a little insecure. She’s got insecurities and baggage she should try to resolve. She thinks her insecurities are bare for Rio to see. And those insecurities shame her and hurt her and make her feel small; but she can’t ask him about any of it because she remembers, _“Oh, you think you’re special, huh? I don’t need you.”_

And although she tells herself they’ve moved past that, she can’t help realizing that he’s never actually taken back the words and so they just keep coming back when she’s feeling unhappy. 

She feels unhappy now.

  
  


She hates herself. 

She hates him.

Hates the jealousy. 

Hates the anger. 

Hates herself some more. 

She goes to bed and doesn’t sleep. Instead she prays to Fate for an opportunity to stick it to him. _“Hello, darling”_ in _The Voice. Is it Drug-beth? Any one of a million other women? What do I really know about him anyway?_ She hates the jealousy only he can make her feel. She swallows hard against the lump in her throat. She would cry if she could. But she can’t. Her eyes are dry and hot and stinging. She hates herself yet more… and him. She knows it’s irrational and puerile, what she’s feeling. 

There are no sweet dreams that night. 

Because she doesn’t sleep.

 _“Hello, darling”…_ in _The Voice._

_“Hello, darling”…_

_Darling._

In _his Come-Fuck-Me-Mama Voice._

  
  
  
  



	42. Best Served Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revenge, regardless of how petty it is, is best served cold.

**_Best Served Cold_ **

**Beth:** _I see red, red, oh red,_

_A gun to your head, head, to your head,_

_Executioner style, and there won’t be no trial,_

_Don’t you know that you’re better off dead_

_All I see is red, red, oh red_

_Run, hide, oh you’re so done_

_Better sleep with one eye open tonight_

_She didn’t mean anything,_

_I’ll remember those words_

_When I come for your soul, your soul_

_Know that you, you dug your own grave_

_Now lie in it_

_You’re so cruel_

_But revenge is a dish best served cold_

**Mood music Credit: I See Red** by **Everybody Loves An Outlaw**

Fate has answered her prayers.

“You want me to what?”

It’s Wednesday morning and Rio has been sitting on her picnic table for less than two minutes before she comes storming out of the kitchen at him. _Fuck!_ She’s still mad. Now he knows one of them is about to do something stupid; he thinks it’s going to be him. 

He says it again, slowly. Elizabeth hates how he talks down at her; as though she is a not-too clever child. “I need to pick up my order early Saturday morning so if you would print all the way through the next three nights that would be great.”

“But it’s not your order is it? It’s 4 times your usual delivery.”

_Goddammit, mama. Just do it for me,_ Rio thinks at her. _For fuckin’ once can you just do something with no questions asked?_

Rio absolutely knows she won’t. He doesn’t know why he is even asking. He knows also that his ask borders on the ridiculous. He needs her to print at least 800 Grand in 3 days and between her day job at the Paper Porcupine and printing at night, she’d literally have to not sleep to get it done.

And she can’t print in 100s because those are difficult to move and neither can she run multiple denomination prints simultaneously because now 20 dollar bills are so rare they’ve become collectors’ items and a counterfeit 20 dollar bill would be discovered too soon. And it goes without saying that if she runs 10 dollar bills, alongside the 50 dollar bills, the ink consumption would be through the roof. Nah, she’ll have to do it in 50s and that means printing 16000 notes and with each run printing a sheet with 16 notes on it, she’ll literally need to do 1000 runs. 

Yes, Rio knows his request is a bit mad. So why he is even asking, he’s not sure. Maybe he just needs to know that they’re still good. Sort of. That Elizabeth’ll try for him. _I’m desperate, mama,_ Rio thinks. And he knows he can’t say those words even though they might be the only thing that would move her to do this for him; to even try for him. He can’t say them because if she figures out how deep into Mei’s mess he is willing to go, things will go even further south than they already are. _Fuck!_

It doesn’t help that just yesterday morning he cut Elizabeth off; refused to cut her in; told her he won’t pay her 12% off the top anymore. Because he doesn’t know what she’s been doing with it. And he needs her not to draw attention to the money she’s making. He can’t go through what they all went through 4 months ago with the feds. _I’m just trying to keep you safe, mama._

_Fuck!_ He doesn’t think she could manage it even on the best of days but now that she’s angry at him, there’s just absolutely no fuckin’ way she’ll print for him. 

“Yes, I know it’s four times my order… Elizabeth, I need…”

She cuts him off. “No.” 

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me the first time, Rio.” Her words call to his mind all the times he has said those same words to her, “You heard me the first time, mama.” Okay, now he thinks he understands how irritating they are. 

“Is that right? 

She just stares back at him defiantly. She’s got the same curled lip she had had the night he told Mick to kill Lucy. Still, he swallows his pride and tries to ask nicely.

“Elizabeth, I wouldn’t be aski…,” she cuts him off again.

“What about my cut?” Rio shakes his head reluctantly.

He understands now that he’s made an awful mistake. He should have started by sorting out the personal drama because he knows, he absolutely knows like he would bet his actual life on it, she’s furious underneath that calm, slightly contemptuous exterior. 

_“What about my cut?”_

“Can’t,” Rio responds. To her, his voice is curt. She doesn’t know it but it’s because he hates the pleading note he hears wanting to creep into his voice. Because he can’t shake the image of Mei dead from a gunshot to the head because he couldn’t step up for her. _Why am I even doing this for Mei? Mei who went behind my back and_ …

Elizabeth is still talking.

“So no 12% off the top yet again which was our agreement that you broke in just about two days’ time?”

“I’m not even washing the money now. I just need it held by my ‘banker’ as collateral to get the cash I need, okay?” 

For a moment, he sees her waver. Sees Elizabeth almost agree to do this near-impossible task for him. Then her face goes hard and Rio wants to gulp because the crazy is in her eyes again even though she tries to hide it and she almost manages to; the jealousy, the anger, it flickers then it’s gone.

He wonders whether this is how he had been in the couple of weeks after she kicked him out of her bed and before she shot him. _Worse. A thousand times worse,_ he thinks. _Fuck! I sent her ears and fingers…_

“Is it for _you_?” she asks very deliberately. Like she knows the answer already and she’s just waiting for him to come clean. Rio can’t lie. Somehow he thinks that telling this bare-faced lie right to her face would be less forgivable than if he were to actually go out and find Mei and hit that like he knows Elizabeth thinks he’s been doing. So he mans up and tells her the truth. The truth which he knows will sink him. 

“No.”

Her whole entire face twists in distaste then she says, “Guess neither of us is getting what we want then.” She shrugs. 

Rio thinks, _Out with it, mama. So we can fight about it and be done and go back to being good._

He’s not certain why he doesn’t just start the conversation himself but maybe he thinks that if he does, she’ll deny being jealous like she always does and then what is he supposed to say next? Also, maybe asking her if she’s angry about it will be admitting to the fact that there’s actually something to justify her anger about it. 

There’s just one thing which he can’t explain to himself; since he denies doing anything wrong by calling Mei _‘darling’_ , why does he still feel guilty?

_“Guess neither of us is getting what we want then.”_

“Oh, yeah? Why is that?” he sounds like a cat; a cat stalking an unsuspecting bird. But she’s no one’s little birdie and she’s just about had it with his capriciousness.

He follows it up with, “You do the job I tell you to do when I want you to do it; that’s how this works.”

And Rio doesn’t know what makes him do it, but suddenly he’s got one hand at the nape of her neck and the other is pressing his gun under Elizabeth’s chin. He’s done it a thousand times before but this one time, it feels… wrong.

Rio knows he’s wrong. He’s making things worse. He’s just made things so, so much worse. Because this isn’t business, is it? It’s for Mei and he’s telling… no, he’s demanding his baby-mama suck up her feelings and not sleep for the next 3 nights to do something damn near-impossible for his… _My what?_ The thought is loud in his mind. The answer a guilty whisper, _my something. I don’t know what._ And that’s the reason he feels guilty. Because on some days he feels like it’s not all business between him and Mei.

Then he reassures himself that there’s nothing there; _my business associate. Mei… no biggie._ But he’s thinking of the black basalt eagle on his white mantelpiece, the hunger that had been in Mei’s eyes and the answering hunger in him that makes him not let Mei get too close for too long. 

_“Oh, yeah? Why is that?”_

Elizabeth is infuriated. _Because “Hello, darling,”_ she thinks. _“Hello, darling”_ in _The Voice, Rio. That’s why. And now you’re holding a gun on me for her, whoever she is. On_ **_me_ ** _… for_ **_her._ ** _._ She barely manages to keep a lid on her fury. Somehow she manages it.

So Elizabeth shrugs and puts as much dismissal as she can into the words, “I have a dinner engagement Friday so the printing will never get done anyway.” 

Then she shrugs again and in that little gesture is a world of contempt for her baby-daddy who’s sleeping with her and going about calling any number of women _darling_ and then using a gun to threaten her into making money she suspects is somehow related to that _“Hello, darling”_ he said last night. She’s had enough. This one job, she will not do. Not even if it breaks them. Not even if he kills her where she stands. 

She remembers Rio telling her so many times that he didn’t need her. It makes her stomach twist. 

_“Oh, you think you’re special, huh? I don’t need you.”_

_“You think I need you? You ain’t nothing but a damn charity case to me.”_

_“You ain’t nothing; I don’t need you.”_

_“Hello, darling.”_

_“I have a dinner engagement Friday…”_

Rio blinks, long and slow. Then he’s got his eyes on hers and Elizabeth thinks that there’s something vicious and green in his too-sweet voice – _saccharine,_ she thinks, _that’s the word._ Saccharine to hide the bitter little undertone in his words.

“Is that right?” 

She does it again. She shrugs. _She shrugs_ **_. She fuckin’ shrugs._ ** With his gun under her chin, _she fuckin’ shrugs._ Rio thinks that this is new; this new way she’s displaying scorn for him. He sees fuckin’ red; because this is the woman who’s got his baby inside her who keeps him up with unnamed, unnamable desires and fears and she’s looking at him like… _like fuckin’ that._

He takes one short step closer to her and she feels like she might actually be the unsuspecting bird being stalked after all. She refuses to step back even though every instinct is telling her to. 

“Is that right, sweetheart?” he practically purrs at her. 

She defies him. Sneeringly calls his bluff. Thrusts her chin out. Bares that lovely neck and her chin some more; the better for him to kill her… if he dares. Drips disdain from every pore of her being. Curls her lip and asks, “What?”

  
  


Rio takes the gun off her and shoves it in the back of his jeans under his jacket. Then he rolls his shoulders back. “Who is it, mama?” He narrows his eyes at her. “Is it the husband? Is it _fuckin’ carman_?”

Then Rio knows she’s really going to goad him into a fight because Elizabeth smiles very sweetly and says, 

“Haven’t you heard? He’s not carman, anymore. He’s spa- ** _King_** now.” Just like that, she puts all the emphasis on the word **_king_** and it’s a petty, petty, cheap shot meant just to madden him and Rio knows it. So why does it make his ire rise? Why does he rise to the bait?

Maybe because he becomes a fuckin’ child when Elizabeth pushes his buttons. And _Christ! Does she ever know how to push my buttons._

“Yeah?” He thinks he’s forgetting what brought him here at 9 am. He pushes her hair back, trails his fingers down her throat, “Yeah, sweetheart? Spa- **_King_ ** _?”_ He too puts all the emphasis on _king._

“Didn’t you hear?” she smiles a smug little smile.

Oh, she knows what she’s doing; she’s actively riling him up and she thinks she’s succeeding; _two can play this game so take that!_ Elizabeth licks her lips. She’s winning this foolish little game.

  
  


Then Rio’s pressing her back and he’s got her caged between his body and the wall behind her. He seems to have snatched her very thought from her mind because he asks, 

“You wanna play little games, huh?” 

Elizabeth feigns ignorance. She shrugs; unimpressed. It makes him a bit sick, that shrug. 

So he strokes his knuckles down the side of her face and he’s watching her eyes widen in her face; her pupils grow… those blue irises disappearing as if in fright of the growing black pools that are her pupils. Fright… _or lust._ Then he’s got his fingers curled around the nape of her neck and his thumb curling right under her chin. And he’s not squeezing; just holding her lovely neck in his hand and he can feel her gulp beneath his thumb. 

  
  


“Do you feel like you’re winning… darling? Spa- **_King,_ ** huh?” he grins at her. That slightly unhinged smile from the night he smashed the corvette. 

“What does that make you? His little _queen?”_

He doesn’t wait for an answer, just says, so softly and sweetly, “Wanna be by his side on Friday? By your liegelord? By your lord and master? Your **_king?_ ** Play the _queen_ to his little **_king?”_ **

  
  


Her lips part. She’s enjoying the jealous rage in his eyes. _“Hello, darling,”_ she thinks.

Rio is still talking, “How does that saying go again, Elizabeth darling; You wanna be the king, you gotta kill the king? This stuff’s medieval, darling. And I think you just declared _him_ your little _king,_ didn’t you darling? And now I think I _want_ to be the king; and that’s funny because I thought I already was because we did this before. Do I need to do it again, sweet mami?” his voice is so, so, smooth, so warm, so terribly, terribly gentle. 

  
  


Then his fingers are wrapped gently around her neck and he feels her gulp and swallow repeatedly under his hand; and the blue in her eyes is all but disappeared and now, there’s the headiest mixture of lust and fear in her eyes. Her blue eyes; where her truth has always been. 

And now he is looking into them and he knows, _he_ _knows_ , **_he_** **_knows_** **,** she is remembering him, Rio, bruised but smug, with _fuckin’ carman_ zip-tied to that chair unable to help himself. _Fuckin’ carman_ unable to stop himself from watching as he, Rio, pushed her hair out of her face, trailed his fingers down her face like he has just done... right before he turned and put that bullet… 

  
  


The eagle on Rio’s neck shifts and shifts and shifts…

His hand closes around Elizabeth’s neck and he is squeezing and he is feeling positively medieval because he, Rio is her fuckin’ king. And after last night and this morning, he thinks he would happily put another slug right in carman’s chest and this time he wouldn’t miss; because this is his fuckin’ queen and he thinks he has just heard her calling someone else _king_. 

_“Give me my fuckin’ wife…”_

Rio thinks maybe instead of a slug he’d like to _break_ fuckin’ carman with his bare hands and make her fuckin’ watch. 

  
  


_“Spa-_ **_king.”_ ** _Fuck me!_

She gasps; inhales a long, ragged breath. He knows it’s not because he’s actually choking her; it’s simply because he has his fingers on her body. Because whatever _her sweet, sweet lying goddamn mouth_ says, her whole entire body knows who rules it.

“Still feel like you’re winning, baby?” 

When she doesn’t reply, just simply parts her lips and inhales a long, shivering breath, he growls out against her mouth, “Don’t make me sit here and wait for him. We both know it wouldn’t end well.”

  
  


Elizabeth gulps. She hears the threat and suddenly she thinks it’s not a game anymore. Rio really is entertaining the idea of finding Dean and… _Ugh! Men!_ She hates it. Then she feels foolish because she started this game today and now it feels too real and she knows she should surrender but she can’t. 

  
  


And why is she so wet at the thought of Rio wanting to rip Dean apart out of jealousy? Why is she so turned on that she knows that if Rio so much as put his mouth _near_ her clitoris and didn’t actually touch her but just breathed on her, she would come to his command? And if he thrust into her just once, she would… 

  
  


Suddenly she’s angry at herself because she feels like she’s losing this game even though it really doesn’t feel like a game any longer.

So Elizabeth puts as much disdain on her face as she can muster and says,“You don’t own me, Rio. I am not a _thing_ for you to play with and push around…”

Then the truth leaks, “…while you go around calling God-knows-who your darlings…” but she moves steadily on with, “You don’t own me.”

  
  


He scoffs. Just looks her right in the eye and scoffs at her. As though he finds her words ridiculous. He tightens his grip on her neck and very, very roughly snarls at her, “You still think not? Coulda had me fooled. Because 3 slugs in my chest and my baby in you says fuckin’ different.”

  
  


She. Can’t. Breathe. 

She really can’t breathe. Because he just mentioned the baby and those 3 accursed bullets in one breath. And she thinks she hates him. And there are tears in her eyes; tears and rage and something like regret. And he sees it and he knows he has fucked up because now she…

She slaps him. He’s not expecting it so it connects, hard to his cheek and to the corner of his mouth. His mouth snaps shut and he tastes pennies in his mouth. 

  
  


In his mind, Rio swears, _fuckin’ hell, Elizabeth._

But he bites off the curses and only her name comes out. And the way he says it, he might as well have just have cussed her out because instead, he spits out her name at her. 

And her name in his mouth is nothing like the soft, sweet thing it usually is; nor the hoarse, sensual, sinful sound it quite often is; nor even the angry and jealous thing it has been on occasion. 

  
  


Rather, it’s a snarling curse and she hates it. And she thinks she hates him even more. And there are more tears in her eyes; tears and rage and something like venom. And he sees it and he knows he has fucked up again because she…

She slaps him. Again. And he swears he saw it coming but it was like he was half-frozen and Time was moving too fast. Again. Going wonky for her. Again. So it also connects, hard to his cheek and he snarls because he’s bitten himself. Again. And he can taste the blood. Again. 

  
  


So Rio grabs her hand in his and turns her around and pushes her hard against the wall but while one of his hands is locked around her offending wrist, the other is cradling her belly; protecting the baby even as he holds her against the wall. He presses the back of the hand that hit him on the wall right next to her face.

“Don’t you ever… don’t you ever do that again, sweetheart,” he hums next to Elizabeth’s right ear and it doesn’t sound angry or threatening but hungry and hankering.

  
  


“Go out to dinner tomorrow, right now even. Go out with your dumbass husband any day or night you like… but so help me, mama, if you do this on Friday night…” Rio huffs out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a snarl. 

“If you go out with him on Friday… if you go out with your precious spa- **_king_ **…” he spits the word then he laughs, “Try it, mami. And I promise you we’ll all still be picking up the pieces Saturday morning… Except him. Don’t know how much of him there’ll be left to pick up.” 

  
  


She hates it. Hates him. Hates that he’d threaten her. And Elizabeth doesn’t know why but it makes angry tears spill out. Because he started this. With _“Hello, darling”_ he started this. And now he’s punishing her because she got upset about it. And he hasn’t even responded to her accusation. She hates that she’s crying; she wonders if it’s the pregnancy that’s making her weepy.

  
  


Then Rio’s kissing the palm of the hand that hit him; still holding it trapped by the wrist in his hand, he drops little kisses on it, as though he’s loving the tingle of those two slaps out of her hand. He rubs his beard in that hand; as though he’s soothing the sting off his face. And she thinks she still hates him but his mouth on her hand is so, so, so soft…

  
  


He bites her palm. Hard. She yelps; tries to snatch her hand away. He refuses to let her. He says, “I told you next time there’d be no soothing.” He bites her. Again. 

Then he walks off. 

**چوچو**

Then with the best of intentions, Rio does the third thing that makes it all worse; that takes this whole clusterfuck of heated words and bitter feelings and foolish actions and wraps it all up in a neat little bow of goddamn disaster.

Later that same day, he makes a bank transfer to her new account. Elizabeth opens the notification on her phone. The reference line reads; 

_“For you and baby.”_

She sees red. 

  
  


Rio knows it’s her when his phone buzzes in his jacket pocket a minute later. 

_“Our one as-yet-unborn baby is_

_not more important_

_than my other four.”_

He curses. _Christ!_ He hadn’t even thought of that implication. He’s denying her money to use on her other kids and sending money for his. _Fuck, mami. I didn’t mean it like that._

  
  


Rio knows it’s her again when his phone buzzes in his pocket five minutes later. 

_“Your electronic transfer to Elizabeth Irene Boland-Marks_

_Acc. No; 0165111199372, FN Bank_

_has been reversed on request of recipient.”_

He curses again. _Fuck! This fuckin’ rollercoaster we’re on._ He wants to throw his phone across the room.

  
  



	43. Three Men, Two Nights, One Polka-Dot Dress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When she wears this dress, these three men see her.

**_Three Men; Two Nights; one Polka-Dot_ ** **Dress**

**Beth:** _Our secret moments in a crowded room_

_They got no idea about me and you_

_There’s an indentation in the shape of you_

_Made your mark on me, a golden tattoo_

_\--_

**Rio:** _All of this silence and patience_

_Pining and anticipation, desperately waiting_

_My hands are shaking from holding back from you_

_Carve your name into my bedpost_

_\--_

**Beth:** **_Say my name and everything just stops_ **

**_Only bought this dress so you could take it off_ **

**Mood music Credit: Dress** by **Taylor Swift**

She’s wearing the black and white polka-dot dress. The one she had worn for Rio. Later, Beth can’t help but think that there’s something about that dress. Something in her life shifts irrevocably every time she wears it. And always, always there’s a man involved. Rio, Dean, and now, Fitzpatrick. These three men with whom her life is so oddly intertwined. _Mmmmh,_ there is something about the dress. And these men, they _see_ her when she wears it. 

She wears it first for Rio. Before that, it had hung in the back of her closet for nearly a year; almost forgotten. Then she had needed to go and get her life back from Rio and she had suddenly remembered, she had just the dress for him. She had meant to go and grovel, maybe get a cut of the profits but instead, she thinks she surrendered to him that night. 

Because when he found out she was still carrying his child, Rio had been… happy. He had been **_happy._** And he had looked at her like he used to look at her in the Time _Before._ Like he _saw_ her again. Just like he _saw_ her _Before._ And she was helpless against that look; so in her heart she knows she surrendered to that look, to loving him, to _him._ She thinks maybe he almost had too; almost surrendered to her; almost surrendered to her a little.

She wears it for Dean next. Because he is jealous that she wore it for Rio. Dean _saw_ her the night she went to get their lives back. Because she was in that dress. And because she was wearing it for Rio. Later, Dean obsesses for days about that dress. Beth thinks it’s because he had probably heard her sneaking back into the house at 4am. And he knew where she had been; that she had been with Rio that whole night. And though he never brings it up, she knows it’s the reason the dress is a thorn in his flesh. 

Initially, she doesn’t realize just how big of an annoyance the dress is to him. Not until the evening she comes home from delivering Boomer to Rio. Dean is standing at the kitchen island drinking bourbon, which he has never enjoyed, and looking at old photos of him and her. They laugh about being sitter-shamed for coming home late on one Valentines’ day. She pours herself a bourbon that she isn’t going to drink. She is being deceitful; but mostly, she is just afraid. She doesn’t know how to tell Dean she’s having Rio’s baby.

“Can’t remember the last time I had that much fun,” Beth chuckles.

“And _you_ wore _jeans._ ” She knows what is coming; his jealousy. Dean’s jealousy that killed Lucy.

“So?”

“Wasn’t that dress,” he says. 

  
  


And maybe she is feeling a little tired and a little hungry and maybe a little mean and cruel because she finally lets the truth leak, “I didn’t need anything from you.”

“Really wish you did.” There is a look on his face like regret. Then he walks away. 

And half-remorseful, Beth calls out after him, “It’s just a dress, Dean.” 

  
  


But that is a lie. And they both know it is a lie. It isn’t just a dress. 

It is her; wanting Rio to look at her the way he used to look at her before she shot him. Wanting him more than she has ever wanted Dean. Needing him like she has never needed anything from Dean. 

It is her; going to Rio and coming back at 4am. And her, not contrite enough to flinch at the sound of his G-wagon driving off into the pre-dawn murkiness. And her, sneaking into the shower to wash the scent of him off her. And her, lying in bed in fresh panties still feeling Rio dripping out of her. And her, knowing she is going to do it again. 

It’s Dean, listening to the loathsome sound of a G-wagon fade off into silence knowing she will do it again. And again… and again.

  
  


And maybe she really is hangry or maybe she is just feeling cruel, because she can’t bring herself to try to sell the lie. Besides, he has spent their whole marriage cheating on her. _Typical Dean_ , Beth thinks. _He can dish it out but he can’t take it served back._ She pours the bourbon down the sink, pauses, finds that she doesn’t really care all that much what Dean feels.

Because she’s just delivered Boomer to Rio, earned back some of his trust; and she knows, _she knows_ , he is going to look at her like he _sees_ her. Like he did _Before._ And she would almost kill - _or die-_ for that look; and she thinks maybe she’s been dying a little every day without it and she wants nothing more than to surrender to him. And maybe he will surrender to her just a little. 

**چوچو**

Eventually, the following Friday, Beth wears the dress for Dean anyway. Because he almost pleads for her to. It’s odd, how he only wants her when Rio does. How he only wants what she wants to give to Rio.

But she’s got another reason too; she wants to stick it to Rio and this is as good an opportunity as any she’ll ever get. She’ll wear what she’ll start to think of later that night as _the dress_ and she will enjoy doing it… It will be petty; _she_ will be petty. And even if Rio never knows what she has done, _she_ will know. She will know and it will give her the joy she needs after what he did on Tuesday; After his little… 

She wants to curse; She hates him a little. Hates herself a little for caring. Hates herself for caring more about the two words he said than what he did the following day; she hates that she cares less about him threatening Dean than about him calling someone else darling. 

She knows; she’s overreacting. Her feelings aren’t wholly justified. But still there the feelings are. Try as she might, she’s unable to kick them. Try as she might to crush the insecurity inside by drawing that half-whimpering sound out from Rio, there the memory of his voice calling _her_ _–whoever she is-_ “darling” still is. Try as they might to fuck each other into some form of security, there the unresolved anxieties still are.

And so on Friday night, because she’s still feeling defiant and angry and possessive of Rio, she dolls herself up to go out to Dean’s award ceremony in the dress. Who knows, maybe she’ll even mention it to Rio later… and watch that jealous rage come into his eyes.

_Rio wouldn’t actually hurt Dean… would he?_

She shivers; she remembers the reassuring look on Rio’s face; that comforting gentleness in his eyes; that small soft smile on his lips like he could almost care about her as he pushed her hair out of her face and said, “It’s alright. It’s okay. You did your best.”

She recalls like it was yesterday, the soft touch of his fingers trailing down her cheek, the feel of his thumb on her chin and how his hand had still been comforting her even as he turned and shot Dean from across the room. 

_He wouldn’t…not because I went out to dinner with Dean, would he?_ The thought is loud in her mind and the answer just as frighteningly loud, _not because of dinner but because I called Dean_ **_“king”._ **

**_“_ ** _You wanna be the king, you gotta kill the king… And I think you just declared him your little king, didn’t you darling?”_ she shudders. But Elizabeth is still feeling jealous and angry and defiant and desperate to make him feel the same so despite being a little scared, she dresses up in the same black and white polka-dot dress. _“Hello, Darling.”_ He still hasn’t answered for that. 

She’s feeling exhausted from being up all night last night printing. But she puts on her best smile and comes out of her room. Then she panics and thinks that she doesn’t want to go with Dean after all. Not tonight when going with him is such a loaded statement; an action so fraught with meaning and consequence. 

_“…Spa_ **_King,_ ** _huh? What does that make you? His little queen? Wanna be by his side on Friday? By your liegelord? By your lord and master? Your_ **_king?_ ** _Play the_ **_queen_ ** _to his little_ **_king?”_ **

Elizabeth shivers. _No_ , she thinks. She doesn’t. She knows who already declared himself her king; who already declared her queen. _“The kingdom’s in your name.”_ _The kingdom’s in my name._

In the end, she doesn’t go out with Dean. 

Fate takes the choice out of her hands and she would be glad; if she weren’t so scared. _Meaning and consequence,_ she will later think to herself. _Meaning and consequence._

  
  


**چوچو**

**Beth:** _Your voice in my ear; The world disappears_

_So I'll fall again; You can keep me right here_

_Haunting my soul; A beautiful thorn_

_You rapture my heart; Leave me broken and torn_

**Brio:** _This love is killing me_

_The pain must be part of the cure_

**_It's so hard to breathe_ **

**_When I need you so bad that it burns_ **

_You are the fire_

_Love is the blood on a rose_

**Rio:** _Lost in your eyes; These ties that bind_

_Body and soul; Leaving nothing behind_

**_Don't know how to stop; Don't know how to stay_ **

_These chains might break; You like it that way_

**Brio:** _Oh,_ ** _the pleasure and pain_**

**_Love is the blood on a rose_ **

**Mood Music Credit: Blood On a Rose** by **Everybody Loves an Outlaw**

The message comes in as they are leaving for Dean’s award ceremony. The limo is almost at the door when the message comes in; she looks up at Dean. He knows the moment he sees her face; she’s not going with him after all. 

Instead, he watches Beth walk out the door. He doesn’t know who she is going to meet; she thinks he thinks Rio. 

  
  


But Beth is going to meet the hitman. James B. Fitzpatrick, IV. She has met Fitzpatrick twice already; once on Wednesday afternoon when she went to pay him for the research on the target –Rio- who Fitzpatrick wasn’t going to kill after all and earlier that same Wednesday morning when she and Annie and Ruby had shadowed him and obviously gotten caught. 

  
  


Beth blushes at the memory of it; _God, we’re such amateurs._ She asks herself why on earth they had thought they could possibly get away with tailing Fitzpatrick. After all, Rio had caught her almost immediately she tried it on him and then he had led her a winding dance about town before sneaking back to catch her in his apartment. She lets herself remember.

  
  


“One question left; You want it?” Rio had asked her, his mouth only inches from hers; his breath mingling with hers; both of them almost hungrily inhaling each other.

Yes, yes… she had wanted _it_ . She had leaned in to kiss him; her lips had parted. But then he had taken malicious glee in kicking her out of his loft like she had kicked him out of her bed. Beth bites her lip. Feels shame. _No. no_ , she shakes her head. That demon is exorcised, she thinks. 

That won’t stop her from sticking it to him though. Maybe _she_ needs to feel that same malicious glee she thinks he had so thoroughly enjoyed.

  
  


Despite the fact that they’re having sex. So much sex. So much good, satisfying sex at the lake house. So much great sex in Rio’s car. What Beth knows is the best sex of her life… and if the fact that Rio keeps coming back to hit it again and again – _God, I almost forgot how much I hate that expression-_ if the fact that he keeps coming back for more is any indication, Beth thinks it’s some of the best sex of Rio’s life too. And he tells her. She loves that he tells her how good it feels.

But for the last three days, they’ve been doing something else; they’ve been fucking. They have done so much hot, angry, jealous fucking this week. Because that has not been just sex… or just hitting it… or just tapping it… or god-forbid the thought cross either one’s mind that it was making love. There hasn’t been any love in what they’ve been doing since Wednesday night. 

  
  


Oh, no. There’s just been suggestive messages traded back and forth, and solitary, unsatisfying release in showers and beds across town from each other. Then when that hadn’t been enough, jealous fucking and petty revenge and mutual punishment and reciprocal selfishness with each of them taking exactly what they needed from the sex and not even attempting to make it good for the other person. 

Until they figure out that they each want the other person so utterly fucked out that the other person can’t even _think_ of getting it on with anyone else. 

Because while in the throes of their jealous rage, they each think the other more than capable of hitting it with someone else… until she has Rio between her thighs or he has Elizabeth’s lush body pinned beneath his. 

Only then, with each watching the other person unravel and go moaning hoarsely over the edge… for a few minutes, the jealousy and anger are replaced by satisfaction and security that no one, _no one else_ could bring that look of surrender to Elizabeth’s face like he can and no one, _no one else_ could drag that hoarse whimpering noise, that soft groan from Rio like she can.

  
  


And so there had been more than a little almost-hate and a lot _-a fuckton-_ of mutual jealous rage being worked out on **Thursday night on the** **workbench at the print shop** before Elizabeth kicked Rio out and told him; To get lost because she had work to do –“printing your money because that’s all you really need from me, isn’t it?”; That she was going to print his exact regular load and not a dollar more; That if his delivery was later than usual he had no one to blame but himself; That she had better not hear a word about it or she would remind him in front of Mick of how he, Rio had been smacking her ass and telling her to “Bend over and hold the table for me, Elizabeth” and “Christ! Your pussy is so sweet… will you still need me again at 2am tonight, mama? Tell me, darling.” and “Fuck! I love it when you come around my cock, mami.” 

So Rio countered; That he would still expect his usual delivery bright and early at 8am, Monday morning and not a minute later; That he was only giving her a pass because he needed much more than she could possibly have managed to print anyway but that she had better know that he was not going to let her get away with insubordination again; there’d be “hell to pay the next time you think to defy me, Elizabeth.” 

And because Elizabeth had already called his bluff about this job once, she defiantly waved a hand in the direction of the printer and told him he could damn well get to printing it himself. Rio swore under his breath and kissed her and fucked her hard again and told her that she had better keep _her sweet, lying mouth_ shut in front of Mick or he would put her in the backseat of the G-wagon again and really give her something to open her mouth and holler about. 

And maybe on **Friday** morning she was still half-worked up from the filthy things he had said in her ear the previous night so she mewled when, after she dropped the kids off to school, she parked the minivan and looked up into the rearview mirror at the sound of the now familiar thunk of a G-wagon door closing. 

And Rio slid into her passenger seat and had her bra unclasped and her nipples in his hands under her coat before they decided that a bed away from Mrs. Karpinski’s prying eyes was needed. So then they took matters indoors and into her bed; and Rio had taken an especial glee in smacking Elizabeth’s ass and biting her nipples and pulling her hair and making her beg for his cock inside her and she had; **_she had begged_** for it with tears in her eyes and then he had given it to her so good. And she had come for him but just as Rio started to lose control she shoved him away and told him to get off her.

Rio cursed under his breath and a dangerous look entered his eye.

  
  


He smiled at Elizabeth and told her very sweetly that he would not get her off the next time they had sex and she didn’t dare call his bluff _this_ time so she caved to him and her own wanton desires and told him she would happily have him hit it again but first pushed his head between her thighs and asked equally sweetly, “Please, would you put your mouth on me again?” before she let him back inside her. Rio was only too glad to go down and lick between her pink pussy lips. But when she started to moan as she neared another climax, the thought occurred to her that he might be setting her up. And he was; because right when she was on the edge, he suddenly stopped. 

  
  


And no matter how much she begged, he wouldn’t let her go over to that little death; he would do it again, bring her to the edge of her orgasm… then stop. Again and again and again. Till she begged and pleaded and whimpered for relief. But Rio just laughed at her and asked her if she was enjoying the consequences of the little war she had wrought upon herself and then reminded her that her vibrator was in **_his_ ** nightstand and not hers. 

Then he walked out. 

  
  


He made it all the way to the car and all the way down her street and halfway out of her neighbourhood before Elizabeth sent him a filthy voice note of her moaning and telling him to come back and come inside her cunt. So he listened to it on repeat as he drove, getting harder each time until his cock hurt and he was almost at the freeway. Then suddenly, he cursed again and turned the car around and stormed into the house and fucked her hard and rough and dirty against the kitchen wall next to the fridge.

_Kill me_

_Lie to me_

_Curse me_

_Do it one more again_

_Drink me_

_Freak me_

_Hate me_

_As you never before_

_Love me_

_Pray me_

_Break me_

_Makin' it for yourself_

_Wash me_

_Hold me_

_Fuck me_

**Mood music Credit: Drink Me** by **Michele Morrone**

And as he edged her one more time for good measure, Rio asked her, 

“Oh, baby… you like that? You like when I’m inside you and I’m about to come in you?” 

“Yes… yeeesss…” Elizabeth sobbed out.

“Are you going to ever push me away again? Are you, sweetheart?” She shook her head. 

“Answer me, Elizabeth.” Elizabeth shook her head again. 

  
  


“Use your words, sweetheart and answer me. Right fuckin’ now, mama,” Rio demanded.

“No… noooo…”

“No, what? No what, sweetheart?” 

Elizabeth shook her head and responded, “I won’t push you away.”

“Yeah? Yeah, sweet mami? You sure about that, darling?”

“Yes… yeeeesssss… I’m sure. I won’t pu...” her words trailed off in a moan.

  
  


“Are you ready to call Rio now, baby?”

Elizabeth could feel her orgasm; so close. So terribly close but Rio still wouldn’t let her go over. Wouldn’t thrust hard enough or fast enough. He just kept teasing her. She wanted to beg again. 

“Yes…"

"Are you going to be such a good girl?"

"Yesssss......" 

“And you won’t do what you did before again, will you?”

“Nooooo….”

  
  


“Now you know better than to try that with Rio, don’t you sweetheart?”

“Yeeeessssss…” she sobbed out. She could hear herself about to start pleading. In her head she was already whimpering, _Please, Rio, Rio…Please, Rio… Please, just fuck me… please, Rio._ She bit her lip and tightened her legs around him.

“Yeah, mama? You sure?”

“Yeeeess…Rio, Yes…”

  
  


Rio chuckled, “You fucked around and found out, didn’t you, darling?”

Elizabeth wanted to not answer. She hated him a little. But yes, she had fucked around and found out. 

“Answer me, Elizabeth. Right fuckin’ now.”

“Yes…..I diiiiiiiiiid…’ she hated him. 

  
  


The bastard laughed. Low and warm in her ear then against her neck as he was thrusting hard into her, “Yes, you did. You found out, mama…” She hated him yet more.

Then he pressed her more firmly against the wall, looked her dead in the eye and said, “Now call Rio, baby.” 

  
  


Then his face was in her neck and he was riding her rough and her mouth formed a small **_o_ **and she was sobbing out his name over and over and over, “Rio… Rio… Oh, oh, oh, God… Rio… Oh… Rio… Rio…” and at the end of it, they were both sweaty and shaky and panting for breath. 

  
  


And Rio thought to himself that there was something to MILF fantasies after all and _Christ!_ How had he lucked into one of his own? Then he happened to glance at the fridge beside them and noticed a photo of her and Dean at the fair amongst the ones on the fridge and he snarled and repeated his threat that she had better not fuckin’ go out with “your precious, little spa- **_king”_ ** that night or else. But just as he had been biting strategically-placed hickeys into her neck for _fuckin’ carman_ to see, the phone rang.

  
  


It was Mick who had called. As Rio answered the phone, Elizabeth very sweetly said, “Aren’t you going to call her ‘darling’? Don’t be shy. Don’t not call her it on my account.” 

But when he shoved the phone in her face to show her Mick’s caller ID she purred into the phone, “Hello, darling Michael.” 

Rio cursed again loud enough for Mick to hear and be utterly thrown into a state because here was Mrs. B calling him "Darling" and Rio cussing her out for it. So Mick just hang up the phone and decided that he wasn’t being paid enough to get in the middle of that… whatever that was; _Lord help us! Lord help_ **_me._ ** _Fuck!_

  
  


So the sex had been filthy and fun and phenomenal but try as they might, neither of them could quite kick that seething possessiveness simmering within them. And now it was Friday night; and things were about to come to a head.

**چوچو**

Later that Friday night, Elizabeth thinks that the hitman, Fitzpatrick, saved Dean a world of hurt. She just feels it in her… she wants to say, _bones_ but she thinks that maybe a bit melodramatic. Still, she feels it in her bones.

And after she meets Fitzpatrick, in what she later admits to herself is a series of incongruous actions, Beth then spends the rest of Friday night printing more money in excess of Rio’s usual delivery. 

But there’s nothing rational or sensible about that choice because Beth had spent Tuesday night begging Fate for a way to punish Rio and when he suddenly needed more funny-money, she had been only too glad to refuse to do it for him. So why was she printing on a Friday night when more than twice Rio’s usual order was already done and packed for delivery on Monday? Why was she going out of her way to print Rio money that he wasn’t expecting her to print when she had just contracted a hitman to kill him? 

She doesn’t know why she is doing it, except that maybe it’s the memory of Rio, earlier that day stalking back into the house, lifting her against the kitchen wall, telling her to call his name and then softly groaning _her_ name in her ear that makes her willing to do it. Maybe it’s the guilt from knowing what she has just done that makes her do it.

Yet she thinks she still wants him angry… hurting… jealous. So why is she doing the one thing that is guaranteed to make him not angry or hurt or jealous; the one thing that’s guaranteed to please him, possibly even make him smug?

Such is the logical discordance between Beth’s thoughts and actions on that Friday night. 

\--

On a sunny afternoon in the not-too-distant future, lying languid in a patch of sunlight, Beth will see the utter absurdity, feel the full weight; understand the real depth of the horror of the hitman affair. _But the hitman will already have taken his shot and it will be too late to take it back._

And although she won’t yet know it on that future sunny afternoon, the entire course of Beth’s life will already have changed irrevocably. 

\--

But for now, on this Friday evening, she feels duty-bound, compelled by guilt and a misplaced sense of obligation into paying a hitman to be rid of the father of the baby inside her and the man she thinks _-she knows-_ she loves.

She goes to meet Fitzpatrick. 

Dean thinks she’s going to Rio. 

**چوچو**

As she leaves, Dean and his colleague, Eric, are right behind her. Beth watches as they get into the limo. She waves and tells Dean she’s sorry. He doesn’t answer; just tries to sort of smile. There’s no joy in it. She feels regret. Sadness. Then relief that Dean is safe. Even though he doesn’t know he might possibly have been in danger. Then anxiety; because she has to go meet the hitman and she doesn’t know what he wants now. She hopes he doesn’t want more money. She hasn’t much left. _What could he possibly want?_ He already told them he won’t kill Rio. 

  
  


Then the thought occurs that maybe the hitman changed his mind and suddenly Beth’s heart is pounding. She knows, _she knows,_ **_she knows_ ** that that’s exactly what has happened. Fitzpatrick has changed his mind about the hit. He’s going to kill Rio if Beth wants him to. _If I want him to. If I want him to. He’s going to kill Rio if I want him to._ She doesn’t… want him to. 

  
  


But she knows she has no choice. She _will_ tell him that she wants him to. For Lucy and Max; Because what right does she have to the happiness that Rio took away from Lucy and Max? Now it’s only fair that she lose him just the way Max lost Lucy. _I dragged Lucy into it and got her killed. Now I have to get Rio killed for her._ She wants to cry… but she won’t. She tries to swallow her heart from where it has newly-taken up residence; in her mouth. It won’t go down. 

Elizabeth’s getting in the minivan when she sees Mick’s car start from across the street. She stalks over to him and bangs on the window. 

He rolls down the window. “What?”

  
  


“Are you watching me for him? To see if I go out?” 

Mick laughs, “No. This is just how I love to spend my Friday nights. Playing Sudoku and doing crosswords alone in my car and babysitting someone else’s…” He waves a vaguely encompassing hand at her. “…whatever you two are to each other.” 

  
  


Mick grimaces and continues, “Can you guys make up your minds cause I’m getting real sick of this. My blood pressure’s not exactly great since you happened, Mrs. B.” 

“So you _are_ watching me to see if I go out with _my husband_?”

“Did you not hear a word I said? Sitting here in the darkness of your street, it’s blissful. TGIF and whatnot, amiright? The highlight of my existence…” Mick’s voice is fairly dripping with sarcasm. He shakes his phone at her and there really is a game of Sudoku open on the screen. 

  
  


“Really, _Michael_? You just do what he says, no questions asked?”

“Something _you_ might like to learn how to do, Mrs. B.; And if you just did what he says, then I could get a drink and my beauty sleep and I wouldn’t have be here playing Sudoku..”

“Like not going out with my own husband? Do you even hear yourself?” She sniggers. “Michael?”

  
  


Then he gestures with his head to the street behind Beth. “Your husband and limo are leaving you.”

Elizabeth grits out, “Yes… yes, they are. And now I’m all dressed up with nothing to do on a Friday night. Happy? Ask him whether he’s happy when you go back to tattle to him.” She sniggers, “Ask him, **_Michael_ ** .” She says it just like that; with all the emphasis on **_Michael._ **

  
  


Mick remembers her saying, “Hello, darling Michael” and how Rio had cursed in response and Mick gets the heebie-jeebies and wants to shudder. _These two are going to kill me one day._

He makes a face then says very sweetly to her, “Try Sudoku, Mrs. B. Simple joys. Oh, and can it with the ‘Michael’, yeah? ” Then he waggles his eyebrows at her and starts his car again to drive off.

  
  


Beth huffs, puts her nose in the air but she grins reluctantly as she gets into her minivan. She likes Mick. _Why on earth do I like Mick after he killed Lucy?_ She knows, on paper she should despise him and yet… 

“…Michael,” she snorts. _Who does the complex crossword and plays Sudoku?_ She has to remember to tell Rio that his gangsters are not keeping a villainous enough profile. 

  
  


Beth starts to smile then remembers; she’s off to meet a hitman who might actually finally agree to kill Rio. Rio who she is still angry at simply because he called someone else _darling._ _What does that mean? Why do I care?_ She tries to drown out the answer to that question by turning up the radio but still it nags, _I think I love him. I really, really love him. And I don’t want him to want anyone else._

  
  


She thinks she hopes Fitzpatrick hasn’t changed his mind but if he has and agrees to do it, she will pay what she owes to Lucy and max. Avenge Lucy’s death. Get Annie and Ruby out from under Rio and then just lie down and die. Her hand is on their baby when she pulls out of her driveway and into the street.

  
  


And now Beth thinks that maybe Fate answered her one wish and has made a mistake. Because it already have her an answer. And now it’s giving her a second answer and this one is the wrong answer because when she thought she wanted to punish Rio for making her jealous; for that seductive, purring way in which he had answered the phone 3 nights ago -she is still stewing over it- she had meant for something small and insignificant to happen. Something insignificant like the way he had suddenly needed her to print an impossible amount and she had been only too glad to tell him to go fly a kite. 

  
  


When she prayed to Fate, how could she have known that Fate had had her eye on Rio for a while now? How could she have known that Fate had been stalking him? Skulking up close to him and looking over his shoulder? Breathing her rank icy breath down the back of his neck? 

  
  


How could she have known? Because she hadn’t meant for Fate to make Fitzpatrick change his mind and suddenly decide to do the hit he had already declined to do. Because now, tonight; she is compelled to go and do her duty. In spite of the fact that she knows her heart will break; she will do her duty. For Annie, for Ruby, for Max and for Lucy. For Lucy most of all. 

  
  


She’s wearing the dress she had worn for _him_ and she thinks she’s feeling little butterflies from _his_ baby kicking her insides. _Rio._ She’s going to contract the killing of the man she loves for their sakes; even while his baby’s heart beats in her. She feels like choking. She wants to gasp. She steadies herself; tries to calm herself. Takes a breath and pushes open the door of the diner.

  
  


**چوچو**

Fitzpatrick is waiting for her; good-looking and all dressed in black, he sits in a booth and waits. Something indefinable about Fitzpatrick seated in that booth waiting for her makes her think of Rio; seated at the bar and waiting for her. Fitzpatrick half-rises out of his seat. He gestures at the seat opposite him. Beth slips into the booth and reminds herself not to cry; _wills_ herself not to cry. 

“Mrs. Boland,” he looks at her. She looks back at him and has a sudden breathless realization; he _sees_ her.

  
  


She thinks, _It’s the dress._

But it’s not.

 _It’s her_.

The dress…

It just clarifies things.

  
  
  



	44. Trouble: He Knows What I Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An associate of Rio's comes to him with a terrible tale of trouble. 
> 
> Still...  
> For Rio, trouble is a chance to expand his kingdom. 
> 
> For Rio, trouble is a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beth's latest monikers PTA-beth and Bake-Sale-Beth come from the ridiculously inventive mind of India: 
> 
> who after quietly reading 43 chapters, 😁43!!! found that they simply couldn't contain themselves any longer and dropped those lovely little gems in a comment. 
> 
> Dear India,  
> I told you I loved your monikers for Elizabeth.  
> PTA-beth cracked me up, as did Bake-sale Beth.  
> Thank you,  
> 😘😘

**_Trouble; He knows What I Know_ **

**Rio:** _Trouble he will find you, no matter where you go_

_He sees what I see, he knows what I know_

_He’s there in the dark_

_He’s there in my heart_

_He waits in the wings_

_He’s gotta play a part_

_Trouble is a friend of mine_

_I’m trouble y’all; I disturb my town_

_I’m trouble y’all; I got trouble in my town_

**Mood Music Credit: Trouble Is A friend** by **Lenka**

 **Trouble** by **Pink**

A few hours earlier on Friday morning, while Elizabeth wraps her legs tighter around Rio’s hips and he laughs in her ear and tells her to call his name, Dietrich Daimler walks into a bar. 

Not just any bar but Rio’s bar. 

_It’s getting old,_ Dietrich thinks; three times now in as many days, Dietrich has walked into Rio’s bar to the cold reception offered by an variable combination of Mick, Dags, Shapiro and the bartender acting in pairs… Mick and Dags, Mick and Shapiro or Mick and the most unfriendly bartender that Dietrich has ever met –Dietrich has yet to find out his name. 

And that’s fucked up; when the bartender won’t even tell you his name, what the hell kind of bar is that?

So now for the third time in as many days, Dietrich has met the cold reception offered by Mick and any one of Rio’s other guys… along with a couple of Glocks closely applied to -and Dietrich shudders to think about this- the base of his skull and to his nuts. 

It makes a man want to whimper. Makes a man want to drop his hands which are raised in surrender. Makes a man want to by turns, protect his head or clutch his nuts. Dietrich thinks this is some kind of fucked up Rorschach test that Mick has invented. To see which is more important to a man; his balls or his fuckin’ life. 

Dietrich wonders what it means if you try to hide your nuts. Does that make one somehow inferior in Mick’s view? Or does clutching one’s nuts somehow come across as authentic and thus raise, in Mick’s eyes, the esteem of the man who clutches his family jewels? 

Does Mick less respect the man who protects his head, preserves his life but leaves his nuts unshielded… or does Mick respect less the man who, by clutching his Sacke, announces to the world that he is still operating as primordial man; the man who by grabbing to defend his cojones –that’s what they are called in Spanish, Dietrich thinks- announces to the world that age-old fear; _My loins. My manhood. Shall I never mate again?_

Which is worse? Who is more worthy of respect? Who is more authentic? Who passes or fails this twisted, little Rorschach test that Mick seems to have invented? Or does everyone pass but then get shunted off into a different kind of interaction depending on the outcome of the two-gun challenge? Does the man who ducks his head get a high-end bourbon and suave words and high-end deals that maybe pay less but are consistent? Does the man who clutches his nuts get a beer and a smoke and a proposal for a dangerous partnership for high-risk jobs for which the pay-out is as likely to be what the Americans like to call _“mad bank”_ as it is likely to be death?

**چوچو**

The first time they do it, Dietrich’s hands instinctively start to drop towards his nuts then he thinks he recognizes the test in the two-gun challenge. So he feints as though to push his hands back behind his head, ducks his head a little as though to protect it.

Then he raises his arms back up by his ears and stands perfectly still for a not-too gentle frisking from the bartender. And in the end, Dietrich doesn’t know whether he has passed Mick’s foolish little test or whether he has failed it. And when it’s over, no one offers him a seat or a measly drink so of his own volition, he takes a seat at the bar and tries to order a drink. 

The bartender is suddenly unseeing, unhearing and incapable of speech. Dietrich sits for an hour and a half and no one says a word to him. _They’re sweating me out; testing my mettle._ He wants to tell them that he was a cadet in the army once living in a barracks and that he has a noisy wife whose way of expressing her love is to nitpick at everything he does and start one-sided fights. 

For the sake of peace, Dietrich never participates in these fights, so his wife harangues his endlessly until it’s time for bed when she finally lets him work off the annoyance she has created by letting him hit it good till she hollers and his neighbours call building security to tell them to keep it down. 

Yes, Dietrich knows building security is coming. So he always opens the door in a robe and a polite smile and the security guys nudge him in a half-admiring, conspiratorial manner before asking him very politely, if he would please ask the missus to keep the German cusswords to a minimum because the neighbours’ kids are starting to call their friends, “die Muschi" and "der Schwanz."

To which he often smiles a rueful smile, and tells them that he would try but that she would likely respond to that by cussing him out further and the neighbours’ kids would then be bound to pick up a few new choice words in the process and does anyone really want that?

So Dietrich wants to tell Mick, that sitting here on a barstool, talking to no one for an hour and a half is not the torture they think it is. If anything, it’s the peace and quiet that he never gets at home or elsewhere… there’s hardly any peace or quiet to be had when you manage three strip clubs and a bunch of other half-dubious enterprises that he is trying to turn legal. 

The real torture is seeing the warm German beer on the top shelf of the imported beer rack; he could almost plead for one if Rio were here. But not from Mick. Not from Mick because he knows that Mick will take great pleasure in snubbing his request. So he sits there for one and a half hours on the first day; and imagines uncapping that bottle of Hefeweizen and bringing it to his lips, sipping on that light yeasty sweetness made in the world’s oldest brewery –Weihenstephan- and by the end of the one and half hours, he could almost cry.

Rio doesn’t turn up. so eventually, Dietrich leaves. And he’s not annoyed at the snub from Rio; he’s just mad that no matter how often he raised his voice to the bartender and asked how much it would cost, no one would even hear him out and let him buy that bottle of beer. He drives to his office and mutters curses on Mick’s head all the way there. 

**چوچو**

He’s back the next day; it’s all the same. The same time in the morning before the bar is open to the public, same bar, same crew, same two-gun challenge; same smirk on Mick’s face; same rough frisking; same cold reception; different bartender now; a guy called Ricky; same unseeing, unhearing, incapable of speech treatment from the bartender… almost as though Dietrich were invisible, inaudible, insignificant. 

The only difference is that today it’s Shapiro who does the frisking. And Shapiro seems to be enjoying a private joke because halfway through the frisking, he chuckles then composes his face and completes the job as though he hadn’t just met Dietrich’s aqua eyes and laughed.

Dietrich thinks, _this could get old real quick but I suspect these bastards –Mick, you jerk- are enjoying it._

This time Dietrich says seven words to Mick, “Hey, I need to see, Rio, Mick.” Mick shrugs. _He shrugs._ **_He fuckin’ shrugs._ ** And walks away to the other end of the bar and starts in on some nuts which have been set out by the bartender. 

This time Shapiro seems to let slip the bartender’s name, “Hey Ricky. Set me out some of those nuts too. Rio says they’re pretty good so I think I’ll try them.”

And Ricky, the bartender obliges Shapiro then stares at Dietrich as though he is examining a pest. Then Ricky seems to feel sorry for Dietrich because he comes over and sets a similar bowl of nuts in front of Dietrich. Dietrich is surprised. But he takes them and is grateful. They’re nice and crunchy and unusual for a bar –Cashews- so Dietrick goes all in. But about half an hour after he is done with the small bowlful, Dietrich realises the trap into which he has fallen. 

Because now, he has snacked on salted nuts and he is seated directly in front of beers and brews from all over the world; and they’re all high-end. the entire rack is full of highest quality brews. Delicious craft beers from breweries such as Trouble Brewing on the lovely emerald isle that is Ireland vie for attention with offerings from microbreweries in New Zealand and Japan. 

Swedish brewers offer to tempt one with rare lagers, ales, bitters, pilsners and Lambics none of which would go unappreciated by the most cultured beer-drinking palates. They even have a couple of bottles of Tusker, proudly proclaiming in swahili, _"_ _Bia Yangu, Nchi Yangu"_ - _My beer, My country._

And today, not only has the Hefeweizen been placed at eye level but beside it stands three flavours of Erdinger including Kristall. That flavor of his hometown has been casually propped up on the edge of the shelf; just out of reach and teetering slightly on the edge of the shelf. 

_These assholes rearranged the entire display in the whole fuckin’ bar to place these beers in front of the barstool in which I sat yesterday. They predicted I'd take the same seat._ He would laugh if he weren't so thirsty. Fuck _you, Mick. And fuck you, Ricky. You too, Shapiro. Maybe fuck you a little bit too, Rio._

Dietrich thinks about that a bit more; _Yeah._ He feels certain that Rio knows exactly what’s happening. So not only is Rio snubbing him, but Rio is also directing these mind-games to be played on him? _I’d say fuck you, Rio. But I actually quite like you and I think I get that this is not just some foolish game but also a test of some sort and an actual funny story to tell in the future... I’ll be the butt of those stories but still… what’s that song by AJR say?_ **_A hundred bad days make a hundred good stories. A hundred good stories make you interesting at parties…_ **

_Still, fuck you too a lil’bit, Rio._

And Dietrich has partaken of the salted cashews… eaten too much of them; _ich bin ein Idiot._ Dietrich doesn’t bother to try and translate that to himself. _I fell for the trick. That’s why Shapiro was laughing at me. I’m such a fool._ So he asks Ricky if he can buy a beer and Ricky comes over and takes his order… then he walks away but doesn’t bring back Dietrich’s beer. And after that, Dietrich might as well be invisible, inaudible and insignificant again. 

He sits for two hours. He can’t quit early or these crackers will take pride in having ran him off. When eventually, he shuffles his feet as though to rise, Mick comes over and asks, very politely, “Would you tell me what you drink?” 

And Dietrich thinks he sees a trap but doesn’t want to believe it’s a trap because truly, if there is even one percent chance that he could get his hand on one of those Kristall beers, and his mouth around the lip of it, he thinks he could go home a happy man. 

So he answers Mick, just as politely, “Kristall, if you please,” and he pulls out his wallet to pay for the first round.

“Nah, I’m paying,” says Mick.

And Mick goes round the bar and comes with two beers and sits next to Dietrich and uncaps both beers… and puts them just out of reach of Dietrich and then proceeds to drink them both. 

_Screw you, Mick,_ Dietrich thinks. But his lip quirks at the utter absurdity of it all. And now he really can’t show hurt feelings by leaving abruptly, so Dietrich sits there for one more hour. Rio doesn’t show. 

Dietrich asks for paper and pen to leave Rio a note. Everyone ignores him just like Dietrich knows they will. He walks out and decides he’s not going back to his office at the strip-club. He goes home instead and works off his irritation by making his wife, Heidi make some noise. Then he answers the door and invites the security guys to go in and tell his wife to keep it down; there are no takers. 

**چوچو**

_It’s getting old;_ it’s the third day now. And Dietrich has walked in to the same reception as each of the two previous times. A gun to the back of the head, another to the nuts; a not too-gentle feeling-up. Then not even a measly drink from the kegger. Two minutes in, Dietrich is already starting to regret coming in. It’s Friday and he thinks he knows that Rio is not coming today either. _What’s the point of knowing a guy who could actually be your partner and ally if he won’t even meet you in_ **_his own_ ** _fuckin’ bar? Yeah… maybe screw you a lil’bit, Rio._

_Rio._ Rio who doesn’t seem inclined to avail himself to Dietrich. Rio who is supposed to be an ally. Rio who, Dietrich, could have sworn he could get along with. Rio who is letting Mick enjoy taking the piss out of Dietrich. _Is this some sort of hazing ritual? Surely, they don’t do this to all new associates?_

Then Dietrich reminds himself of what he thinks he already knows; _Rio is testing me; trying to see how easy it is to get a rise out of me ._ He could almost curse Rio. Rio who now also seems to be making a point; _Dietrich, you’re my underling and I won’t come just because one of my underlings shows up in a bar somewhere and asks for me._

_Well, it’s getting kind of old. I wouldn’t be here three days in a row if things weren’t deathly serious. Come on Rio, I need help. Where are you, man?_

Dietrich says, “Hey, Mick…” Mick raises an eyebrow in response. Dietrich runs a hand through his short blonde hair; turns his blue-green eyes on Mick. 

“You think he’s coming in today?” 

Mick doesn’t answer. Just rolls his eyes at Dietrich in a what-the-fuck-kind-of-question-is-that? and I-am-not-his-babysitter-his-wife-or-personal-assistant-so-why-the-fuck-would-you-assume-i-know-what-his-itinerary-looks-like-beyond-what’s-on-tap-at-the-time-it’s-happening? And also yes-he-will-definitely-come-in-because-he-always-pops-by-and-he-knows-you-are-here-and-i-have-business-to-discuss-with-him-so-yes-but-I’m-not-making-your-day-easier-by-telling-you.-So-fuckin’-sit-there-and-sweat-it-Dietrich.

But even to Mick it's a bit much; persisting in giving Dietrich the cold shoulder feels like a bit much. Because Dietrich is a nice guy. Each time he’s come into the bar, he’s come in unarmed, with no guards or weapons, just completely trusting to Rio’s reputation for level-headedness and Dietrich’s own reputation for decency to act as the foundations of a meagre guest-right; Dietrich knows he could sit here all day and no one would harm him or so much as say a cross word to him. 

But… Mick hasn’t offered Dietrich a drink. He likes Dietrich so Mick won’t offer Dietrich one or even let him buy one. In fact, each time Dietrich has come in here, Ricky has in response to Mick’s small head-shake turned his back on Dietrich and become unhearing of his quiet request for a drink. Mick has no intention of incurring the obligations of a host because who knows, Rio might come in here and tell Mick to put a bullet in Dietrich and Mick thinks it would suck to have to kill a man that one has drunk with and _actually_ likes. 

Still, on some level, Mick feels bad. Because he likes Dietrich. Respects Dietrich. Thinks Dietrich is a good guy. Knows that Dietrich must very badly need some sort of help for him to sit here three days in a row. Mick suspects that Dietrich feels humiliated by Rio’s snub but you wouldn’t think it to see him.

And each time that Mick has had to pretend to be unfeeling then watched Dietrich walk out hours later just the same way he came in; tall, lean, good-looking, blonde, aqua-eyed and slightly more bowed in the shoulders with obvious care and worry –more worry than Mick has ever seen on him, Mick has felt like a total jerk. But he is trusting Rio to know what he is doing with Dietrich. _God, I hope Mrs. B. isn’t making you do stupid, Rio._ In an unknowing echo of Dietrich’s own thoughts, Mick thinks at Rio; _Where are you, man?_

  
  


**چوچو**

Neither Mick nor Dietrich know it but just this minute, Rio is holding Elizabeth up against her kitchen wall next to the fridge. And telling her to call his name. And then himself softly groaning out _her_ name. Then he sees the photo on the fridge; feels annoyed by it. And he is marking Elizabeth to soothe his irritation when he looks at his ringing phone and it’s Mick. And Rio knows what Mick is going to say, “Dietrich is here again. Third time in a row, man. I think you need to see him.”

Yes. Yes, Rio knows he needs to see Dietrich. He has known from the first time Dietrich came looking for him. But Rio has been sweating Dietrich out. Trying to see how bad Dietrich needs what he needs. Third day in a row and Dietrich has been sitting at the bar for hours. That bodes ill. Feels like trouble coming over the horizon. So yeah… Rio needs to see Dietrich. But now Rio knows that Dietrich needs to see Rio more than Rio needs to see him. 

So he answers the phone then he curses because Elizabeth calls Mick _‘darling’_. Rio curses; not at Elizabeth but in her general direction. Because his temper has been out-of-whack since Tuesday night and he has been annoyed at the petty little goings-on between him and Elizabeth.

And Elizabeth has been _screwing him_ and _screwing with him_ and tonight he thinks she will _screw him over;_ and more fool him because he invariably rises to the bait. And that’s because he’s hungry for her; desperate and aching for her but she’s making him be her side-piece and then knifing him with her words because he called Mei _‘darling.’_ _Christ! It’s just a foolish, little word which means nothing. She means nothing._

Except that Rio is man enough to admit when he’s messed up and he messed up with Mei because… because with Mei _“darling”_ isn’t just a fuckin’ word. Not with Mei. 

Not with Mei or he wouldn’t be trying to amass 7.2 million dollars in jewelry for her. He wouldn’t have put a gun to his baby mama. He wouldn’t have made unreasonable demands of Elizabeth. He wouldn’t be picking fights with her over Carman. _Fuckin’ Carman, Rio._ _Pathetic, Rio. Pathetic._ He wouldn’t be planning a trip to Canada for any other faithless business partner. He wouldn’t… well, there’s a lot he wouldn’t do. 

But here’s the thing; now things between him and Mei have changed because she’s shafted him by doing business with Terrence’s son and he thinks he can’t let himself trust her anymore. 

And that door between him and Mei that’s always been on the latch… well, now he has to lock it and keep the key… _nah._ Throw away the key. _Yeah…_ Rio thinks he can’t entertain Mei anymore. He thinks he might have to kill that hint of _‘what-if’_ that he and Mei like to leave lingering between them; might need to keep things strictly and coldly business now. And maybe not even business if he can’t trust her not to feed his enemies. And he doesn’t know how he feels about any of that. He thinks maybe he hates it.

 _I can’t trust you now, Mei darling;_ He just can’t help calling her _‘darling’._ _Fuck!_

 **_I can’t trust you now,_ ** _Mei darling;_ it annoys him. He thinks he really hates it. 

Out of nowhere Rio has a recollection; of Elizabeth coming out of her kitchen door to her backyard and yelling at him, “I trusted you.”

He remembers what he had told her then, “That’s your fault.”

Then she had told him that she would only tell him where his shipment of Canadian generics –his pharmacy- was after he cut her in. He had been furious after having been into a row with one of his buyers so he got personal with Elizabeth, tried to hurt her, “Oh, you think you’re special, huh?”

“You need me,” she had responded. 

And Rio remembers firing back at her with words meant to cut her down to size, “You ain’t nothing. I don’t need you.” Thinking about it now, he winces. _I think I need you, mama. Just you._

But _Goddamn Elizabeth;_ even with his gun under her chin, she had defied him; looked him dead in the eye and spelled out just how bad he needed her for his business to run. 

“Then go buy a sketchy lot down on Carson, use fake cash, staff it up with gangbangers… how long do you think till the feds show up? A month? A week?”

So he knew he needed her. Because of what she brought to the business; her PTA-Beth persona. Her Bake-sale-Beth façade. With her blonde hair and her blue eyes and her minivan and her mediocre husband and her four kids going to dinner at PF Chang.

And even before her husband had opened the kitchen door and come out holding their youngest -Jane, the baby of the house- Rio had known he was not going to pull the trigger on Elizabeth; was never going to put a bullet in her. 

Because even then he thought that maybe he was beginning to pay attention to a feeling he would much rather not have had; he needed her. _He needed_ **_her._ ** Not her Beth persona. Or her car dealership. 

Just her; _Elizabeth._

Elizabeth and her blue eyes and her blonde hair and her glorious tits and her pale, pale thighs and her defiant chin and _her sweet, lying mouth_ that had already moaned her orgasm in his ear but hadn’t kissed him yet. 

_Christ! He needed her. Just her._

And when her husband had come out onto that back porch, Rio had felt himself nod. Nod once. Then unable to stop himself, he had nodded twice more. Because he had just had an insane urge; an insane urge and a crystal-clear picture in his mind of just where he wanted to put the bullet he couldn’t put in Elizabeth. Right in Carman’s fuckin’ chest. And he wouldn’t miss this time. Maybe he’d empty the entire clip this time.

Then Rio had walked away into the night. Walked away because of the sweet, little girl in Carman’s arms; _“Mama, can you lay with me?”_ Walked away and put his gun away and tried to talk himself down. Tried to talk himself out of the picture in his mind of himself putting a slug in Carman’s chest. Tried to talk himself down from wanting an excuse to take carman out of the picture so he, Rio could take Elizabeth and make her his. 

Because that’s what he had been thinking about; making Elizabeth his. Having her and knowing he could hold her up against walls any time he wanted. Having her and knowing he could push her knees apart and step between them and make her moan his name. And holding her against that wall in the bar, fucking rough and fast into her, he had heard her start to moan his name before she stifled it so he had known she had wanted to… she had wanted to call his name. 

So that’s what he had been thinking about; having her and knowing he could hit it and bury his face in her neck or her hair and breathe her in _-breathe her and her cherry blossom scent-_ and listen to the intoxicating sounds of the soft moans she made when she clenched around him. Having her and knowing he could do something more wild and reckless than putting a slug in carman -knowing he could let himself spill inside her every time he was in her. 

Having her and knowing that he could allow himself to hold an image that had first popped unbidden into his mind in that bathroom as she moaned next to his ear –an image he had tried to quash but which had recurred for days after he came in her and walked out of that bathroom and went home to shower. To shower and try to wash her off his body and his fuckin’ mind- an image of her pregnant, heavy with his baby. That’s what he had been thinking about even then. _Christ!_

Well, that and the fact that Carman was just a wall away. It had been titillating. Fucking her and bringing her twice to climax while her husband waited and squared the check. But Carman was hardly innocent in this whole affair. _Affair._ Rio shivers at the word. Yes, he knows he's an asshole. But for the life of him, he hadn't been able to forget the picture in his mind; of Elizabeth pregnant and heavy with his baby. 

_Elizabeth heavy with my baby;_ that’s the picture he had been trying to wash off his mind that night in his shower... And many other nights since. That and the one of himself putting another bullet in fuckin’ Carman’s chest.

And he had known that if he ever did either of those two things; either buried himself between her thighs and came in her like she wanted... or shot her husband… somehow, he had known, _he had just known,_ that this time, he would make damn sure not to miss again. 

And now things between him and Elizabeth have changed; _Holy fuck! That’s an understatement._ And here Elizabeth is; actually pregnant with his baby, eager to let him hit it, and with a look in her eye that strangles the fears inside him. _Goddammit, sweetheart;_ while she’s looking at him like she could almost, _almost_ love him, he forgets to be afraid. 

Yet there she is; still married to her dumbass of a husband _-fuckin’ carman-_ and apparently in no hurry to be uncoupled from him. Would you blame Rio for cursing? 

Anyway… He’s going to let Dietrich sweat one more time. Then he, Rio, is going to show up behind Dietrich in a place where Dietrich is not expecting him. _Yep._ Then he’ll hear the man out and see what comes of it.

Rio turns to Elizabeth. Gives her one more love-bite; because that’s what it is even though he would never admit it to himself. Or to her. A love-bite. So he says the word casually in his mind; _love-bite._ Then he tries not to pay attention to that heat starting low in his belly. Or the one in his chest. _Hickey. Call it a hickey, Rio._

He picks Elizabeth up again, drops her in bed, tells her she looks fuck-drunk and she should sleep it off, grins and nips her shoulder. He doesn’t kiss it better. Then he walks out of her house.

_Time to go see what Dietrich wants._

_Time to meet the trouble._

_Time to maybe_ _start_ _some trouble._

_What do you want, Dietrich?_


	45. If You Want To Be King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now Rio knows something troubling. But for Rio, the trouble he knows is a friend. And maybe it's time to take out the king: to expand his kingdom.
> 
> And Rio finds out another associate might be part of the sticky situation he finds himself in.

**_If You Want To Be King// A Time for War_ **

_ A storm is coming _

_ Desire burns _

**_A war is calling_ **

_ The tides are turned _

_ Empires rise _

_ Empires fall _

**_We live or die_ **

**_To take the throne_ **

**_Only one will stand at the end of it all_ **

_ \-- _

**Mood Music Credit: Empires** by **Ruelle**

  
  


Rio doesn’t find Dietrich at the bar; he knows from Mick the exact moment when Dietrich leaves. Then Rio strolls into the bar, slides up onto his usual seat and accepts the proffered heavy cream envelope from Ricky. Before he breaks the seal on the envelope, Rio sits back and appraises the small and precise script in which Dietrich has printed three block letters then underlined them with a short, neat line;

**RIO**

Rio tilts the envelope at Mick and asks, “He still won’t say what he wants?”

Mick responds with, “Nah! He looks really determined about it though. Troubled too.”

Rio stares at his name printed on the envelope. In all his years, he knows he is absolutely sure that he has never seen his name printed quite like this before. He turns to Mick. 

“What does this handwriting say about Dietrich, Mick? And what the hell does mine say about me?”

“Maybe that he’s a better man than both of us. But I think I sure wouldn’t want to be the hamster running the wheel that powers up that mind; because holy crap! Can you imagine how anal-retentive he must be?”

Rio laughs. “Well, one thing he is, is intelligent. And persistent. Both things I like.”

“That’s two things. You go to see her and you can’t even count when you get back?”

“Fuck off, Mick,” growls Rio but though there’s a half-grin on his face as he starts to rip open the envelope, Mick’s words float about in his mind,  _ “You go to see her and you can’t even count when you get back?” _

_ Ain’t that the fuckin’ truth,  _ Rio thinks. _ I can’t count… I don’t even think straight when I’m around you, mama. I’m so fucked, darling. And I love our baby so much already. And I think I love you… maybe.  _ That’s him hiding from the certainty in his heart.  _ And the nookie… Fuck! I could almost touch heaven, Elizabeth. I’m so terribly fucked!  _

He pulls out a sheet of paper. And he’s reading it when he says, “Hey, Mick… I think you might be right; maybe he really is a better man than we are.” 

Mick grimaces as he looks at the note. “Damn! Rio, are we sure we want any part of this?”

“I don’t,” Rio answers. “I really don’t want it, Mick…” He pauses. Seems conflicted. Then annoyed. 

“You know I don’t want it…But fuckin’ hell, Mick! There are times when you end up doing all kinds of things you don’t want to do.” 

Rio rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand then drags his hand down his face to his mouth. That oh-so-Rio gesture ends in another stereotypically Rio-pose; him leaning his face on the gently-closed fist of his left hand, rubbing his knuckles up and down the left side of his jaw. 

“Aaaaaaaah, fuck, Mick.” Rio swears. “When did we get ourselves tangled up with Dietrich again?”

“You know when…” Mick is quiet for a beat. Then he says, “And you know  **_for who_ ** .” The last two words are heavy with significance. 

Rio is talking  _ at _ that unseen visitant who inhabits the empty seat between him and Mick when he says softly, “Goddammit, mama. The things I get sucked into because of you.” 

_ “Goddammit, mama. The things I get sucked into because of you.”  _ **_For you, mami._ **

_ How many wars do I have to pick because of you, darling? Holy fuck! This is a whole other level of the game. Wasn’t ready for it, Elizabeth. I don’t think I’m ready for this.  _

He inhales hard.  _ How many times do I have to be fuckin’ Mars because of you, sweetheart?  _ Then in his mind’s eye, he holds the image of Elizabeth as he has just left her; Venus pregnant and fucked out, absolutely wrecked for him.  _ For him.  _ It almost makes what he is about to do –what he has no choice but to do- easier. 

_ I’m fucked.  _

He goes home to his loft and locks Dietrich’s note and envelope in a floor safe in his closet. A floor safe that no one,  _ no one, _ not even Mick knows about.

Three hours later, at exactly 3.30pm, Mick parks the car and waits for Rio. 

“You sure you don’t want me to come with you, Rio?” Mick asks. 

Worry is evident on his face; “This whole thing is trouble. And you know it’s trouble, Rio. He’s a good guy but he’s going to bring nothing but trouble to us, Rio. This thing feels like entering another level of the game that we really need to go into with eyes wide open… or better yet not go into at all.”

“I know.” Rio shakes his head but still he steps out and onto the somewhat too-long, green grass. 

Mick sighs and strokes his beard.

**چوچو**

Rio walks amongst the gravestones to the small white gravestone tucked away under a weeping willow and stops behind the tall, fair-haired man kneeling by the gravestone. 

Rio stands quietly there. Dietrich pulls one more weed and looks up. Rio says nothing. Just hands him a bunch of yellow and white roses. Yellow roses; friendship proffered. White roses; innocence recognized, a sympathetic hand extended. Evidently, the symbolism is not lost on Dietrich. 

“Thank you, Rio.”

Rio nods. “Sure, Dietrich.”

Dietrich is still kneeling there, by his sister’s grave with the flowers in his hand when he says, “I wanted to talk about…”

Rio stops him with a gently raised, palm-out hand. “It’s all good. I can sit in the car and wait until you’re done visiting Anya. I just wanted to bring the flowers. It’s all good. I’ll wait.”

Dietrich shrugs. “Sure, if you’re uncomfortable.”

Rio frowns then says, “What? No. I just don’t want to intrude business into your time with Anya.”

Dietrich responds, “Nah, Rio. She’s the entire reason I’m here.” He gestures. Rio understands; Here at the cemetery. Here in this city. Here on this side of the world. Here in the world at all. Here. 

Rio nods, “So… the stuff you said in the note…”

“All true. And I need some help now. Someone has been trafficking little girls. Minors. I’ve been going through the books, Rio and it was Yuri. And Jeremy, Rio… I don’t know if Terrence knows but I have no reason to believe that Jeremy got this going on his own behind his father’s back.”

Rio’s face twists. He knows the answer to the question that he is about to ask but he wants to sound Dietrich out anyway, “Okay… how does this end up being my business?”

“Two things; the house the girls are disappearing into is in your hood. Seven blocks from the bar. If heat ever comes down on that area, you also might get caught up in it…” he pauses and wants to flinch from Rio’s cold, cold look. “I’m not suggesting anything. It’s not a veiled threat. I know better than to do that.”

Rio tilts his head at him; yes. Dietrich knows better than to threaten him. “The address?” 

Dietrich gives it to him. Rio listens and sighs.  _ Christ! That’s a fairly, affluent neighbourhood.  _ He thinks he knows the place. It fronts as a spa and day-club ostensibly catering to middle-class clientele.

“You said two things, Dietrich. What’s the second thing?” Rio knows the answer for the question he is asking. And here is the real crux of the matter and maybe now he realises that he is glad he took Yuri out for Elizabeth because that action alone might be the genesis of his, Rio’s, own salvation. 

Because without Dietrich taking over Yuri’s old spots, Rio would never know what he knows now. Rio would never know just how dirty Terrence is… and how big the ticking time-bomb they’ve been sitting on is. Rio wants to say an ironic  _ “Long live the king,”  _ but today those words, even with that sarcastic note don’t sit well with him. Because Terrence needs to not be king. Someone rational and less  _ grimy _ needs to take the throne and clean up some of the mess happening.  _ Trafficking of minors! Fuck! That has to stop. Christ, this is bigger than I thought it would be.  _

Dietrich is speaking.

“Well, the second thing is that if this comes out -and all such things always come out anyway- if it comes out, then Jeremy and Terrence go down and we go down with them. We’ve been paying out to Terrence and we must have unwittingly been funding that toxic mess somehow. And don’t think that those two will hesitate to drag us under the bus with them if it can get them one day shaved off their sentence… or even just out of spite.”

Rio thinks that his impression of Dietrich was right on the money; _you’re_ _intelligent. That’s good, Dietrich, because I don’t suffer fools gladly._ He keeps his thoughts off his face. 

Out loud, he asks, “What do you want from me, Dietrich?” 

“Your help taking them down. You know who needs to be disappeared. I personally just want the head of one guy; Jeremy.” Dietrich’s not pleading; his voice is matter of fact. As though it’s a foregone conclusion that Rio will do it. 

Rio’s face twists in distaste. “What the hell are you on about? I’m not killing anyone for you, Dietrich.”

Dietrich laughs. “I wouldn’t dream of it. In the end, it’ll be on me. I get to go in there and take the guy out. But I can’t on my own. Because they’ll see me coming from a mile off. And… I don’t have the clout you do, Rio and as much as it humiliates me to sit three days in your bar waiting to speak to you and ask for your help, there’s no other way out for me. Not without turning myself over to the feds and asking for their help. But I’d rather pick out a grave near Anya than do that.”

Rio is quiet. He has no doubt that Dietrich is sincere but from half a lifetime of caution, he hates talking business in environments he can’t control. He leans in close to Dietrich and says, 

“I don’t know what the fuck any of what you have said means, Dietrich. But sure, cool story. Let’s get you home.”

Dietrich looks confused until Rio jerks his head in the direction of the G-wagon. An unspoken, “Let’s go.” 

Dietrich rises and he’s got a smile on his face; he pauses to kiss Anya’s headstone. And he mumbles, “Es tut mir leid für all deine Probleme, süße Schwester. Ruhe dich aus und ich bin in einer Woche zurück.” 

Rio doesn’t understand all of what Dietrich says but he understands the first part;  _ I am sorry for the problems. _ Had he understood, Rio’s gut would have clenched and he would have clapped a hand of comfort on that poor man’s shoulders. 

Because Dietrich said, “I am sorry for all your troubles, sweet sister. Rest and I will be back in a week,” and he means it; and though he knows there is something irrational about it, his whole life is a walking penance for not having taken better care of his sister. 

They start to walk away. Then Rio stops and says the thing that brought him to this cemetery; very quietly and as though it were an afterthought, Rio tells Dietrich, “Hand to Anya’s grave, Dietrich. Swear to me that this is not some kind of set-up.”

Dietrich walks back to Anya’s grave, kneels next to it and puts his hands on it and kisses the headstone. “On Anya’s grave and her sweet soul, it’s not a set-up. It’s just a group of girls like her who shouldn’t be in the mess they’re in and I don’t know how to help them except if you help me somehow.”

And despite the fact that he is so sorry for Dietrich, Rio’s voice is cool when he says, “So help me, if it turns out to be a set-up, I will reap you and bury you halfway across the world and seal you in… so your shade can never visit with Anya’s again.”

Dietrich shudders; all six feet of him trembles and gasps out a breath. He looks… cold. 

Then he grins at Rio and says, “The need for you to do that will never arise because neither I nor any of mine, will ever lift my hand against you. But if at any time on this job, you decide you won’t help me anymore, tell me to my face and don’t betray me. Don’t screw me over on  _ this _ one job, Rio. Because if you do, you’d better sleep with one eye open for the rest of your life.”

Rio squashes that shiver rising in his spine. And he laughs, an odd sound in the weak September sunshine of a cemetery. “If I decide to screw you over, Dietrich, the same day the thought crosses my mind, you’ll already be halfway across the world. And you’ll be sealed in before the sun rises the next morning. While I… I’ll be sleeping in my bed; like a fuckin’ baby.”

Dietrich shivers. “Heiliger strohsack!” He translates for Rio’s benefit. “It means “Holy crap!” 

Rio raises an eyebrow. Dietrich expounds, “I forget sometimes how scary you are, Rio.”

Rio grins. ”Who? Little old me? Scary? How now?” 

Dietrich chuckles. But then his laugh dies in his throat when he meets Rio’s brown eyes and Rio says, “Don’t you forget it, Dietrich.”

Dietrich shivers and remembers Yuri… Yuri and five of his goons turning up in a less than alive state. Then he remembers Rio standing at his, Dietrich’s door in the middle of the night, bruised and bloody. Dumb. Dangerous. Deadly. Death come knocking at Dietrich Daimler’s own door. Yeah… Dietrich knows better; he knows better that to try to screw Rio over. 

He hands his own car keys to Rio -who passes them on to Mick- and steps into the passenger seat of Rio’s G-wagon. Mick sits behind him and Dietrich can’t see him but he knows,  _ he knows,  _ **_he knows_ ** that Mick has a gun to the back of his head. He shudders. 

  
  


**چوچو**

They don’t speak again until Rio parks the G-wagon outside a small warehouse near the bar. Then Rio says, “Get out of the car, Dietrich.” 

They walk in. Rio holds a gun on Dietrich; he holds it casually in his hand as though he almost forgot it was there. Dietrich knows that that is a studied illusion and one false move on his part will earn him a bullet right between the eyes. 

Mick frisks Dietrich again; thoroughly. Then he runs a wand over Dietrich; there are no transmitting devices on him. Dietrich didn’t even bring a phone; Rio likes that.  Rio did not expect a wire on Dietrich but it doesn’t hurt to make doubly sure of something when taking on a new associate… especially one who comes with a job of such meaning and consequence.

_ Fuck! _ Rio is unsettled. But it sure sounds like this job must be done.  _ Needs must and whatnot,  _ thinks Rio. Then Rio tells Dietrich to strip down to his boxers. He does; No wires. He passes the security check. He dresses up again.

Dietrich gets the message; he will meet the same treatment every single time until he has earned Rio’s trust. Dietrich looks around; there’s nothing in the warehouse except crates and crates of alcohol. Rio meets his eyes and tells him, “Relax, Dietrich. Everything here is on the up and up. All perfectly legal so even if you ever try to burn me, this isn’t one of the ways to do it.”

Rio gestures at a small table. Mick pulls three chairs then skips out for something. 

“Okay, now we can talk.” 

Dietrich opens his mouth. Rio cuts him off. 

“Where’s my cut, Dietrich?” There’s a small pause. Dietrich is taken aback that Rio’s cut takes priority for Rio. Rio raises an eyebrow; tilts his head at Dietrich, juts his chin a little. 

“In the car.” 

“Is it all there?”

“Yes, Rio. but only barely.”

Rio nods repeatedly, “Sounds as though business is not so hot. Can’t decide if you’re trying to kill your own business altogether, Dietrich.”

“You know how it is with me, Rio; I can’t do a job if it’s hurting a girl somewhere. Not if I can help it anyway.”

Rio looks at him; he rests his chin on the heel of his gently-closed fist and looks at Dietrich long and hard. Then Dietrich realises that he really does have Rio’s complete and undivided attention; he’s not sure that he likes it. Even so, Dietrich doesn’t shrink from the appraisal. He has nothing to hide so he meets Rio’s eyes.

Rio thinks,  _ Fuck, man! You’re going to kill your own business which might be kind of stupid… but damn, if I don’t like you. _

Rio makes a quick phone call presumably to Mick who returns shortly thereafter sans Dietrich’s car keys but with a six-pack of brews. Dietrich sees the Kristall and wants to cheer; the taste of home in his mouth seems like such a nice little reward for the world of trouble he is about to drop on Rio’s shoulders. 

Mick says to Rio, “Dags said everything in the car is as he said; money’s in a bag.”

“Aight. Tell Dags to check the cash carefully. To make sure it’s safe to get it where it needs to go.”

Dietrich says, “It’s clean.”

Rio ignores him and repeats to Mick, “Tell him to make sure it’s safe to get it where it needs to go. Then take the keys to the bar but leave the car where it is. Dietrich can take a cab back for it.” Mick steps out and gets back on the phone. 

  
  


Dietrich grins at Rio who asks, “What, Dietrich?”

“Most inhospitable bar I’ve ever been in. I can’t decide if you’re trying to kill your own business altogether.”

Mick walks back in, seats himself on Rio’s right hand. Rio wants to grin at Dietrich’s words. He bites off the smile and doesn’t let the amused surprise show on his face.  _ Point taken, Dietrich. Not all business is good business. _

He doesn’t let his thoughts show on his face. 

Instead he asks Dietrich, “What did you expect? For Mick to roll out the red carpet for you?” 

He turns up his hand in a slightly impolite questioning gesture. He is being deliberately abrasive; he needs to see what Dietrich is made of. And so far Rio thinks the man is calm, persistent, intelligent, forthright, principled and by the sound of things, aware of which side his bread is buttered on.

“ _ What did you expect? For Mick to roll out the red carpet for you?” _

Dietrich winces. “I’m a friend, Rio.”

“Are you? When all you’ve done is bring me a heap of trouble and drop it in my lap.” rejoins Rio.

Dietrich stares back for a moment. The air gets unexpectedly thick with tension; they both know that Rio’s quiet query is simply a prompting for Dietrich to pledge his sword and fealty to the soon-to-be new king. 

Rio lets the silence drag on; it does. Time stretches on and on… Rio knows it’s an illusion… this is simply the wonkiness of Time that has been happening since Elizabeth happened along and shot him. 

Rio thinks that his brush with death makes him experience Time much more acutely than most other people do. He almost  _ feels _ it; as though it’s a near physical thing. Most often it’s like a soft tick-tock sound in the air around him that provokes an urgency to seize life by the cojones and wrestle it into submission. 

At other Times, Rio is strolling casually down the avenues of his life as one might do early on a moonlit night, then suddenly, Time jostles him as would a suspicious stranger with less-than-innocent intentions on a dark street. And Rio could swear Time snatches something from him and then it slips past him and is racing down a dark alley and Rio wants to chase it but he is not sure he wants to go into that dimness and catch up to it.

Sometimes he swears he feels Time as a thief; taking more than a few beats from his heart, stealing the breath from him, snatching the very air from his lungs and he feels himself slide closer to his imminent Destiny; his ultimate encounter with Fate. Then he tells himself to stop being fanciful and that he doesn’t believe in Fate anyway; that a man makes his own Destiny…

But since he met Elizabeth, he thinks he’s been hiding from it; the realization that; 

his life, his future is not quite fully in his hands… 

that it might be in Elizabeth’s hands… 

that it might even be up to a higher entity… 

He might resist to name the entity, but when he is drifting in the moments between wakefulness and sleep, when his conscious mind starts to surrender control and his subconscious comes to life, he thinks he acknowledges; his life might ultimately be in the hands of something bigger… and that something might be named Fate. 

  
  


And Fate; she doesn’t love him.  _ She doesn’t love him.  _ **_She doesn’t love him._ **

Perhaps because all his life, he has snubbed her; and scorned her; and chosen to make his own way in life.

And when he let his life, his future, fall into the hands of another, he didn’t put it into the hands of Fate. 

Instead, Fate; he snubbed her yet more; and scorned her yet more; and let his life fall in Elizabeth’s hands.

And when Elizabeth shot him, still yet he didn’t tear his life or his future from her hands.

And so now, Rio thinks Fate turns her jealous, yellow eye on him… and it glares at him and promises malice and no happy tidings. And still he snubs her, scorns her and is afraid but unwilling to wrench his future, his life from Elizabeth’s hands… 

Elizabeth who he  _ thinks _ he knows maybe he loves… 

Elizabeth in whom his baby sleeps…

Elizabeth who Rio is almost sure will kill him someday… 

Someday in the not-too-distant future…

Someday not too far off in Time.

Sometimes, most often when he is with Elizabeth, Rio feels Time slow down, build up a pressure around him, squeeze around him and hold him still… hold him still in a tight but warm embrace.

This silence with Dietrich; it is  _ not _ a warm embrace. The pause is hardly a minute long but it feels weighted; heavy with expectation and obligations from the future. It feels as though weeks or months in Time have suddenly been squeezed into a few airless breaths. 

It seems to be suffocating Dietrich too but he rallies, squares his shoulders, looks Rio in the eye and without any guile or deception in his face he says, “I’m your friend. Your ally. You have my loyalty.” 

Then Dietrich grins, a fiendish yet happy little grin, “Let’s take Terrence out. Let’s kill the mad king, Rio.” 

_ “And his heir,” _ though not said, is implied and heard by everyone at the table. Ri o thinks,  _ Jeremy. _

Then  _ Fuck! Goddammit, Mei. You’d better not be caught up in this awful mess. How are you willingly doing business with traffickers? I hope you’re not a part of it, Darling. And now I have to come rescue you tomorrow? Really? How do I know that this is not a set-up of some sort?  _ Rio is really, really antsy now. 

_ “Let’s take Terrence out. Let’s kill the mad king, Rio.” _

Rio leans back in his chair. Tilts his head at Dietrich. Contemplates him. 

He asks himself one question;  _ how much love must you feel to plan to kill a man for the woman you love? _

Mick’s words come back to him,  _ “To War, Rio; for kingdoms and for the women we love. We know, they’ll be the death of us.” _

And now, Rio thinks that he knows he maybe actually loves Elizabeth because when push had come to shove, with nothing between him and Elizabeth but the look in her eye when she climaxed beneath him, he had taken out Yuri and five other guys without hesitation.  _ Now, _ with his baby inside her, he would start wars, burn whole kingdoms to the ground, raze entire worlds to ashes for her.

_ How much love must you feel to plan to kill a man for the woman you love? _

Then Rio realises that in reality, that question pales in comparison to the question he should really be asking;  _ how much love must you feel to plan to kill a man for the  _ **_ghost_ ** _ of your baby sister? _

And he realises that Dietrich gave up his whole life as he knew it; his job, his home, his country, his past… for the memory of Anya. Even his present is a never-ending act of penance. And here he is; offering to give up even that little to Rio, offering even to give up his future, possibly his life to start what might be an unwinnable war for his baby sister who’s been dead more than five years. 

Rio doesn’t have a glib response to that. 

So he simply stretches out his hand; pulls out three beers, uncaps them, passes one to Mick then hands Dietrich the taste of home in a bottle. 

_ Yeah… Okay, maybe if we have to, we can kill the mad king,  _ Rio thinks.

In his mind, his own words to Elizabeth come back to him; 

_“You wanna be the king; you gotta kill the king. This stuff’s medieval, darling.”_

_“Let’s kill the mad king, Rio.”_

_ Is that really just Dietrich’s voice? _

_ Or is this Fate’s voice calling me to my doom? _

_ Is it Time for War? _

_Well, it's Time for Trouble, anyway._

As he drives, Rio has an odd thought: _Zorada._ He tilts his head then nods to himself. Nods once. Nods repeatedly. _Yeah... It's time to call in what Gretchen owes him._

Then his brow furrows. _Nah... It's time to_ _ **ask** Gretchen for a favour. _He grimaces. _She'll hate it... **and me,** a little. _

Rio is pensive as he drops Dietrich off outside the bar and hands him a six-pack of assorted Erdinger beers from the backseat. Dietrich grins his appreciation. 

Mick gets in his own car and heads out to Mrs. B’s.

Rio’s windows roll up. He is thinking of Elizabeth when he pulls off into traffic and heads home. 

_ Feel the devil on my back  _

_ I keep on running _

_ Feel the heat under attack  _

_ I keep on fighting  _

_ I rise again _

_ And I keep on fighting _

_ But I can hear the reaper calling my name _

_ Bless my soul, my time is coming _

_ ‘Cause everybody wants to go to heaven  _

_ But nobody ever wants to die _

_ I can hear the reaper calling my name _

_ \-- _

**Mood Music Credit: Reaper** by **Silverberg**

**چوچو**

Mick parks across the street from Mrs. B’s house and leans back in his seat;  _ Why do you make me do such things, Rio? So what if she goes out with her dummy of a husband? For fuck’s sake, he’s her husband, isn’t he?  _ Mick sighs.  _ Yes, I know… She’s yours, huh, Rio?  _

He pulls out his phone and loads a game of Sudoku. __


	46. The Beast In My Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chap 46: Mick tattles to Rio. Rio wonders where Beth is.
> 
> He thinks he's losing this war of hearts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Readers,  
> Short chapter today. Tomorrow's is huge! So come back then.
> 
> Pls keep all the lovely music recommendations coming. Loving them.  
> 😘😘
> 
> Hey India,  
> Check out the mood music. Horns by Arc North and Bryce Fox. I have loved it forever and you mentioned it while it was literally already typed up in today's chapter.  
> I screamed a little.

**_The Beast In My Bones_ **

**Rio:** _In her hands is my heart_

_And she won't let go till it's scarred_

_She got blood cold as ice_

_And a heart made of stone_

**_But she keeps me alive_ **

**_She's the beast in my bones_ **

_She gets everything she wants_

_When she gets me alone_

**_She's the fire in the sin_ **

**_And I burn breathing her in_ **

_Now it's love suicide_

_And I sell my soul for the high_

_Truth be told, I don't mind_

_'Cause she is my paradise_

_Got her heels stomping down my throat_

_She got horns like a devil pointed at me_

_And there's nowhere to run_

_From the fire she breathes_

**_She got two little horns_ **

**_And they're getting me a little bit_ **

_\--_

**Mood Music Credit: Horns by Arc north and Bryce Fox**

  
  


Mick parks across the street from Mrs. B’s house and leans back in his seat; _Why do you make me do such things, Rio? So what if she goes out with her dummy of a husband? For fuck’s sake, he’s her husband, isn’t he?_ Mick sighs. _Yes, I know… She’s yours, huh, Rio?_

He pulls out his phone and loads a game of Sudoku.

Mrs. B is getting in her minivan when she sees Mick’s car start from across the street. He watches her stalk over to him; _Uh-oh, here comes trouble._

He knows she is going to bang on his window. She does. _You’re big mad, huh, Mrs. B? Yep, for once, I think I get it,_ Mick thinks.

He rolls down the window. “What?”

“Are you watching me for him? To see if I go out?” No prizes for guessing who the _“him”_ in question is.

Mick laughs at her; _what kind of question is that? Spelling out the obvious much, Mrs. B?_

“No. this is just how I love to spend my Friday nights. Playing Sudoku and doing crosswords alone in my car and babysitting someone else’s…” He waves a vaguely encompassing hand at her. “…whatever you two are to each other.” 

_What are you two even at this point? Just fuck-buddies? Nah. No. No. This is some kind of sick, sick, little, twisted loves-of-each-other’s-lives type of deal. And mutual property of each other, maybe._ He wonders how Mrs. B would have reacted if she had known that Rio had once picked up a stranger and gone home with her. _I wonder what happened to make him come back to the bar so quick though._ Mick bites off a grin. He’s got to remember to get a few good digs in at Rio about that night. _There’s no way you hit it with that babe that night, Rio. That was too fuckin’ quick._

_Fuck!_ Mick thinks Mrs. B would have been fuckin’ jealous -utterly crazy angry; even though she had no standing; _it’s not like Rio’s your husband or even boyfriend or something._ He really wants to grin. Still, Mick would bet a year’s income that she would have been livid… and seething with jealousy. _Yep… you would have wanted to kill something that night for sure, Mrs. B. Him… preferably._

_But then again; maybe you do have standing, Mrs. B. I mean, it’s not as though you’re his wife and see the shit he’s making me do. Literally making me report back to him on whether you go out with your own damn husband. That’s nuts! And yet somehow… not totally unexpected with you two. Actually, maybe even par for the course. Just get over your hang-ups and get together for real so Rio can stop dragging me into this kind of mad situation. I’m so sick of you guys not deciding one way or the other what you are to each other._

  
  


_…what you two are to each other,_

Mick grimaces and continues, “Can you guys make up your minds what you two are cause I’m getting real sick of this. My blood pressure’s not exactly great since you happened, Mrs. B.” 

He remembers he ought to check his cholesterol levels next week; _I really should try to eat fewer burgers. Mmmh… I think I’ll eat whatever health-nut dinner Rio has cooked up tonight._

“So you _are_ watching me to see if I go out with **_my own husband_ ** **?”**

“Did you not hear a word I said? Sitting here in the darkness of your street, it’s blissful. TGIF and whatnot, amiright? The highlight of my existence…” Mick knows his voice is fairly dripping with sarcasm. He shakes his phone at her and shows her the game of Sudoku open on the screen. Mrs. B seems half-surprised.

“Really, _Michael_? You just do what he says, no questions asked?”

“Something _you_ might like to learn how to do, Mrs. B.; And if you just did what he says, then I could get a drink and my beauty sleep and I wouldn’t have to be here playing Sudoku..”

“Like not going out with my own husband? Do you even hear yourself?” She sniggers. “Michael?”

  
  


Mick gestures with his head to the street behind Mrs. B. “Your husband and limo are leaving you.”

She grits out, “Yes… yes, they are. And now I’m all dressed up with nothing to do on a Friday night. Happy? Ask him whether he’s happy when you go back to tattle to him.” She sniggers, “Ask him, **_Michael_ ** .” She says it just like that; with all the emphasis on **_Michael._ **

Mick remembers her saying, “Hello, darling Michael” and how Rio had cursed in response and Mick gets the heebie-jeebies and wants to shudder. _These two are going to kill me one day._

He makes a face then says very sweetly to her, “Try Sudoku, Mrs. B. Simple joys. Oh, and can it with the ‘Michael’, yeah? ” Then he waggles his eyebrows at her and starts his car to drive off.

 _Time to go_ **_tattle_ ** _to Rio. Jesus! These two will really, really fuckin’ kill me one day._

  
  


**_War of Hearts_ **

**Rio:** **_Come to me in the night hours_ **

**_I will wait for you_ **

**_And I can’t sleep_ **

_‘Cause thoughts devour_

_Thoughts of you consume_

_I can’t help but love you_

_Even though I try not to_

_I can’t help but want you_

_I know that I’d die without you_

_I can’t help but be wrong in the dark_

_‘Cause_ **_I am overcome in this war of hearts_ **

_I am overcome_

_in this war of hearts_

_\--_

**Mood Music Credit: War of Hearts** by **Ruelle**

_“Ask him whether he’s happy when you tattle back to him.”_

Mick relays those words verbatim. And with a hint of derision. 

“So are you?” Mick repeats to Rio.

“Fuck off, Mick.” Rio turns away from Mick back to the stove. He is. Yes, he is happy. His jealousy is assuaged. And he doesn’t want to put another slug in Carman anymore so that’s probably good too. He thinks Elizabeth probably wouldn’t forgive him if he did it again. He grins.

“I will fuck off to the bar and wait for you to serve me up whatever that is,” Mick says as he shoves Rio aside to wash his hands.

Rio obliges him. It’s garlic, butter-roasted salmon with baby potatoes and asparagus. Mick digs in then takes a dig at Rio, “So you must be very proud of yourself, huh? Well done, Rio; scaring that poor woman, Mrs. B.”

Rio fixes him with what he hopes is a quelling look. Mick laughs. “That’s your best one? Dude, your glare needs some work.” Rio huffs. He thinks so too; his glare needs some work… in front of a mirror, probably. 

Mick continues, “You know, he’s her husband, right? He’s still her husband.”

“Okay, Mick. So…” 

“Listen, I don’t know what’s going on with you two, but I know you can’t tell her not to go out with her husband.” Rio takes it as a challenge. As though Mick has thrown down the gauntlet.

“Yeah? Can’t I?”

Mick sees the mistake he’s made. “Let me rephrase; you shouldn’t. And really, for whatever reason she decided not to do it, I know you cannot possibly want it to be that way…”

You wouldn’t know it to look at him, but Rio agrees; this is not what he wants. He doesn’t want to _tell_ her what to do. He feels it again. That feeling with which he is becoming a little too familiar for his liking; Shame. Contrition. He scowls at his plate. 

Then he says in a rare moment of complete forthrightness, “She says things, Mick. Things that are specifically designed to drive me up the fuckin’ wall. Make me a bit crazy. She says **_things,_ ** Mick. With that _mouth_ of hers, she just pushes my buttons… and I…” he falters. 

Mick is unsympathetic. He has chosen sides and he’s on hers.

“Best fuckin’ apologise to her. You should have seen her; all dolled up with nowhere to go. She was in this dress, this black and white polka –dot dress…” 

“Wait… what?” And suddenly Rio wants to hit something. “She wore the dress for Carman? For _fuckin’ carman?_ ”

“What?” Mick doesn’t understand what that snarl on Rio’s face is. “What’s with the dress?”

Rio shrugs but there’s something frustrated and tired that won’t leave his face. “Nah. Nothing.”

“What? So what if she wore a black and white dress?” Mick insists. Rio wants to evade the question but he knows Mick won’t let it go now. “What? I’m dying here; come oooon!” Mick tries not to grin; _oh, this is gonna be good._

Rio fairly spits out the words, “Polka-dots.”

“So? What about them?” Rio stares back at Mick; the irritation on his face is something to see. Then realization dawns on Mick’s face. His eyes widen. 

“Oh, shi…! Polka-dots? She wears them for you? Like a sex thing? Like some signal or something? For you?” Mick is being a jerk, he knows. But this is _just_ too delicious. 

Fork and knife still in hand, he throws his head back and laughs a long, rumbling laugh. It goes on for a full minute during which Rio repeatedly visualizes stabbing Mick with a fork. He only just manages not to give in to the temptation. Then Mick coughs, rubs his right hand over his face and that strange thing happens again; starting from his eyes and ending with his mouth, composure returns to Mick’s face. 

Rio’s had enough. “Mick, go home. I wanna sleep.”

“No, you do not. It’s not even 10 yet. But wait, she wore it for him? _For him?_ ” Mick could almost laugh again but he can see the barely-concealed green monster in Rio’s eyes. “…Oh, Fuck! Damn, Mrs. B… that’s cold.”

Then he sympathises with Rio and claps a hand on Rio’s back. Rio winces. 

“She didn’t go out though. Maybe she wore it to piss you off.” Mick knows his words are hardly comforting Rio. Rio fists clench around his fork and knife. 

Mick can’t help himself; he chuckles, “Dude, I can see why you are so fucked up; she knows all your buttons… and she’s not afraid to take a fuckin’ hammer to them. Christ!” 

Rio’s jaw locks. He tries to talk himself down from that jealousy that is roiling in his heart. Mick stands up and starts clearing the dishes. 

Mick repeats, “But she didn’t go out with him after all. Whatever you did though, I’d apologise… or she’ll keep finding ways to stick a knife in you.” Rio shivers. _Stick a knife in me. Fuck! She really, really did that once. Goddammit, Elizabeth._

Rio knows that Mick is right and he has to apologise to her about the Mei thing, and the threatening-to-kill-Dean thing but he doesn’t yet know how to. He’s not sorry he sent her money for the baby though. And he’s going to send twice that again next Tuesday… and every Tuesday after that. 

Still, he has to make this right somehow. So when Mick leaves, Rio drives over to her house but the house is dark and though he’s parked on her street until 2am, she still hasn’t returned. Rio has been stewing in Mick’s question, _“So you must be so proud of yourself, huh? Well done, Rio; scaring that poor woman, Mrs. B.”_

Rio is not proud. He is… guilty? Yes, guilty. Ashamed he threatened her. Kind of sad that she knows not to fuck with him. Maybe he’d like her to feel safe and know she can defy him with no consequences. But he knows he put the fear of God and Rio in her when he had Mick kill Lucy. So no, he is not proud. He hates himself a little. 

Her dumbass husband returns alone around 1am and he seems a bit out of it. Rio scoffs and _then_ he is really, really happy. She knows her king and _Whoever that king may be,_ Rio thinks, _it is not this fuckin’ guy; this dumbass husband of hers. Fuckin’ carman._

Rio drives off back home and lying in his bed, he wonders where she is. Had he known, he would both have wanted to kill her and kiss her. Tomorrow he finds out why he should want to kiss her and he does.

He will never know that he should have wanted to kill her that night until after there are already a million more reasons to want to keep her alive.

But when he does find out, a thought will occur to him; _sometimes we want things… and we don’t always get what we want._ He will remember what Turner said to him in room 403 at the Arden; that Elizabeth once told Turner that her mama used to say, _“You get what you get and you don’t complain.”_

And Rio will want to complain. 

He will want to howl in rage… and pain. 

And all he will want is the scent of her goddamn cherry blossom. 

That’s all he will fuckin’ want…

All he will need…

Ache for…

Be willing to kill for…

Die for… 

Just her cherry-fuckin’-blossom.

_“You get what you get and you don’t complain.”_

  
  


Tonight though, he tosses and turns the whole night. He’s still thinking of her and her polka-dot dress. The one she wore last Friday night; the night she admitted she was still pregnant and Rio thinks his fuckin’ heart just gave up trying not to love her. _Fuck! You wore that dress for Carman? Really? Goddamn you, Elizabeth._

Then he’s almost glad that hadn’t found her home because he thinks he would have tapped her in the car again tonight and he would not have been too sweet about it. _She'd have loved **that,**_ Rio thinks.

 _Goddammit, Elizabeth! You'd have loved it, sweetheart. I'd have hit it just the way you like. Why do you like the way I hurt you, ma? You minx._ Because she does; she loves it when he's a little bit rough. His pulse throbs steadily in his cock. He tries not to think about the pearls in his nightstand. _But you didn’t go out with that dumbass though. So where did you go? Where are you, mama? I want you._

At 5am, he texts, 

_“Mama, come away with me tomorrow.”_

The message is delivered but she doesn’t read it. He sighs and tries to get some shut-eye; he’ll need it. He’s still staring at the ceiling when the sun comes up.

He goes to the jewelers’. Now all he needs is a courier. _Scratch that… I need you, mama. Where are you?_ Rio deletes the unread message he sent her from both her phone and his… then sends her a new one;

_“Elizabeth, get your girls. The bar; 10.30am.”_

He thinks he’s losing this war. 

When did love become a war? 

When did loving **_her_** become a war? 

_Fuck!_

_When did I start to think of it as **loving** her?_

Maybe he already lost. 

Maybe he lost long ago.

 _Mars!_ He scoffs at himself.

_God of War and whatnot already lost the war._

_The hubris, Rio._

_The fuckin' hubris. Pathetic, Rio._

_Oh wait..._

_At love, Venus wins hands down every time._

_Fuck! Again!_

_When did I start to think of it as **loving** her?_

He blames her eyes. 

And the baby he put inside her.

_Fuck, mami!_

_I want you._

_Will I ever not ache for you?_

He thinks he **_knows_** maybe he's losing the war. 

He thinks he **_knows_** maybe he's already lost the war. 

**_جوجز_ **

_Stay with me a little longer_

_I will wait for you_

_Shadows creep_

_And want grows stronger_

_Deeper than the truth_

**Mood Music Credit: War of hearts by Ruelle**


	47. A Losing Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth has a job to do today. Before the job, Rio teaches her how to play pool. 
> 
> Beth knows she's losing the game but Rio'll give her a fighting chance: he'll teach her.
> 
> Mick has a few choice words... and some interesting company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Liquorish2003,  
> Two scenes for you: car wash scene s3e10 7min and pool table scene 25min 30s in  
> Pls stop immediately at 27min b4 beth infuriates you.

**_A Losing Game_ **

_A broken heart is all that's left_

_I'm still fixing all the cracks_

_Lost a couple of pieces when_

_I carried it, carried it, carried it home_

_I've spent all of the love I saved_

_We were always a losing game_

**_Small-town boy in a big arcade_ **

**_I got addicted to a losing game_ **

_Still I carried, I carried, I carried on_

_I'm afraid of all I am_

**_Please, carry me, carry me, carry me home_ **

_All I know, all I know_

**_Loving you is a losing game_ **

**Mood Music Credit: Arcade** by **Duncan Lawrence**

For once; for only once, Annie arrives before Ruby. Just a minute or two to be sure but she arrives before Ruby. 

“Shotgun,” she calls to Beth and says she’ll go in to say hi to the kids and _‘Deansy’._

“Wish I could see the rugrats without having to see Deansy. Amiright, universe? When are you going to make that happen, Beth?”

Beth ignores her rant about Dean and is secretly glad they don’t have to have the shotgun tussle today. She’s exhausted and not in the mood for bickering. 

Ruby arrives a couple of minutes later and starts to slide into the front seat. “Sorry, Annie called it.”

Ruby rolls her eyes and gets in the backseat. Evidently, Annie has spotted her because she comes out holding a half-eaten bun in her mouth and tries to talk around it, “I called it, Rubes.” It comes out as a series of garbled noises, “aah caaanh aah” but to Elizabeth, it makes perfect sense. 

Annie calls over her shoulder, “Bye, Kenny. Ben says you’ve got math tutoring on Thursday at 4pm?” Truly Beth doesn’t know if Kenny understood any of that but she, Beth, has had a lifetime of practice deciphering Annie’s speech from around her stuffed mouth. Annie slams the house door.

Annie gets in the minivan and waggles her eyebrows at Ruby. “Hey, looky here! Now who’s seated in the backseat?”

“Hey yourself, Annie. How’d you get here before me?”

Annie bolts down the last of the bun and responds, “I’m not trying to be late for Homeboy, okay? I’d rather have a bun on the go than eat a bullet for breakfast, amiright?”

Keep it down, Annie,” Beth says as they drive past Mrs. Karpinski watering her lawn. 

“Oh, come on, she didn’t hear that…”

“Hey, Mrs. Karpinski.” They all smile and wave at her. 

But Annie follows it up with a snide, “Gee… I see, Michael couldn’t make it for some lemonade today?” 

Then she sniggers but Ruby brings her up short with, “You know where he is, though? Where we’re headed.”

“Oh, crap,” Annie says. “What’s this job anyway?” 

Annie and Ruby look at Beth but she shakes her head, “Don’t look at me; I told you exactly what he said and he’s not known for being forthcoming with details, okay?”

“But he’s got to stop making us do these jobs on weekends, Beth.” This from Ruby.

“Why are you telling me? I’m in this just as much as you are.” Beth waves her hand about in exasperation. 

“Yeah… but he’s your _boooy,”_ Annie rolls it out. 

“You know what I would like; I’d like him to show up to one of your houses so you guys can know the strain I feel having to deal with his instructions. Second of all, he’s not my _boooy.”_

_Except that… he sort of, kind of is,_ she thinks to herself. _I should tell them, right? How to start? Jesus! You guys will hate me for hiding this for so long. Because that’s what I’m doing, isn’t it? Hiding his baby?! I’m hiding his baby and I can’t do that forever._ She’ starting to worry that she’s showing; when she looks at herself in a mirror, she knows that she’s showing. She thinks it’s just that Ruby and Annie are not expecting her to possibly pregnant so they’re not really seeing her… but she knows, she’s showing. 

After that, there’s silence all the way to the bar.

**چوچو**

They’re seated at a booth when Rio walks in to the otherwise empty bar. The front doors are still closed and are only pulled open by one of the staff then closed behind them. Rio walks up to them, clocks the three bourbons on the table and a part of him wants to wince. _You’d better not touch that, mama. She wouldn’t though,_ he reassures himself. 

Still, he breathes easier when he hears her tell her sister that she’s not going to drink because she’ll probably be driving. Then another small part of him is annoyed because, _You still haven’t told them, huh? Goddammit, Elizabeth. You’re still hiding baby then, huh?_

“Yo.” He nods at them. Look, every time he meets these three, he’s prepared for some backtalk; for some running of mouths… some back and forth that though he wouldn’t admit to it, Rio often enjoys because, _Christ! they’re fuckin’ weird, aren’t they?_

He stifles back a grin when he recalls the time Ruby drew her line in the sand, “Just for the record, I’ll never smuggle anything up my butt.” _What the fuck was that even?_ His lip quirks; _not as strange as shorty over there._ He remembers Annie chiming in with, “I could be talked into it if the compensation was appropriate.” 

_Holy fuck! Christ! How’d I get myself tangled up with these three._ Then low in his belly something clenches because now he’s tangled up with Elizabeth… _tangled up and getting tangled in the sheets with her and she’s having my baby and goddamn, mama. I want you so bad; What were you up to last night when all I could think about was you?_ He looks at her. And then he tells himself he’s prepared for what is about to come out of their mouths but in a minute, he thinks maybe he’s wrong and he takes that thought back altogether. 

Because while Elizabeth is biting her lip and obviously trying to keep her composure; biting her lip in that way that lets him know that she’s _not_ unaffected; biting her lip in that way that sets him on fire… her little sister opens _her_ mouth and lets out an, “Okaaaaaaay!” and a wolf-whistle that would not be out of place in front of a construction site. 

“Nice threads, Gangfriend,” Annie continues.

Rio rolls his eyes and almost snorts a laugh. _Christ!_ How did the little sister end up so unfiltered while the elder comes with a mouth which might as well be a finely-tuned weapon?

 _Look at me, sweetheart. Show me that lip you’re biting. Show me your sweet mouth, darling._ That _sweet, lying mouth_ that only spits out words when each word is a little knife aimed right at a pre-determined target? That _sweet, sweet lying mouth_ that only ever hits the bullseye… except when it’s making those soft moaning sounds for him… _What am I saying?_ thinks Rio. _Those little sounds hit their mark so well._

Annie won’t be quiet. “Holy smokes, you clean up nice.” 

He does. He does clean up nice. Rio knows he looks good. He is wearing a black, slim-fit, mohair-wool blend, three-piece Emernegildo Zegna suit with a dark-blue tie on a blue shirt the _absolute_ exact colour of Elizabeth’s eyes. Tucked into his breast pocket is a floral-print pocket-square while on his feet, he wears black, patent leather cap-toe oxfords.

At his wrists, are sapphire-studded cufflinks and respectively on his right and left wrists just under French-cuffs of his shirt are a matching cuff bracelet and an Omega Speedmaster watch. He only wears one ring on his hand today; a gold band on his right pinkie. 

“What, you got a fancy wedding to go to, Gangfriend? Or did you dress up for little old us?” He turns to Annie, fixes her with a quelling stare. She meeps. Zips it. Rio is gratified; maybe his stare still has some effect on the lesser minions after all. 

“Aight. Y’all brought your passports?” Rio directs his question to the three of them.

“Um… no. No one said anything about passports. So…” Annie trails off when Rio turns his eyes on her.

“Mine’s at home,” Ruby says. She sounds apologetic. 

Mick passes by the table; he is headed to the pool table. 

Again, Annie mouths off, “Hey, Trigger-man.” Mick stops; apparently jolted out of his composure by that moniker. Rio wants to curse. _Jesus! Do they just have mouths on them? Is it deliberate; a show of bravado or is she really just this brazen all the time?_ Mick looks at Rio who shakes his head imperceptibly. Mick walks on by.

_“Mine’s at home.”_

“So y’all just come to work unprepared then, huh? What about you, mama?” _Fuck!_ He’s done it again; called her mama like he thinks he knows he should not call her in front of her girls. He looks at her but she won’t meet his eyes so he affects a nonchalance that he doesn’t quite feel and strokes the knuckles of his closed left hand down his jaw. 

“It’s in the car. Why?” Elizabeth finally looks up at him and he blinks -long and slow at her, because her eyes are huge in her face. _Fuck! that’s beautiful to see._ Rio swallows and hopes her girls didn’t see his neck tattoo shift. He doesn’t answer her. 

Instead he just says, “Let’s go then,” and jerks his head in the direction of the bar. 

“What?” 

He stops. Puts his hands in his pants pockets. “You heard me the first time, mama.” _Fuck! Done it again._

Annie appears to have unlearned the fright he had put in her a mere minute ago because she seems to have found her tongue again. And she doesn’t try to hide the snideness of her remark when she says, “One-woman job after all, huh, Gangfriend?”

He turns back to Annie, smiles at her, lets the animal inside him leak into his face and quietly asks the completely non-threatening question, “Am I? Your Gangfriend?” 

Annie shivers. _Good!_ Maybe she’ll feel inspired to retire that little moniker in his presence at least.

To see his face, one would think he were irritated by the fact that they didn’t bring their passports. But the fact of the matter is that he’s never been more glad. This was almost too easy. Because he had only actually needed Elizabeth and not the three of them.

He had been counting on Elizabeth’s almost-compulsive penchant for planning and the absence of that little trait in her girls to ensure that when he asked the question, only one of them, Elizabeth would have her passport. _I only needed you, sweetheart._

He walks past the bar and to the pool table where Mick is playing a solitary game of pool. Mick hands Rio a black cue stick. But Rio takes both the offered cue stick and the one that had previously been in Mick’s hand.

“Watch them for me, Mick.” Mick rolls his eyes but walks away to join Annie and Ruby.

Rio hands Elizabeth a cue-stick. She resists. “What do you want me to do with this?”

“What do you wanna do with it?” He stares her down, tilts is head at her. 

She rolls her eyes at him. She’s feeling annoyed. Because try as she might, she can’t quite keep her ears from pinking and she thinks her feelings are all over her face; these feelings… a half-desperate need to get him behind closed doors and bend over for him and have him hit it while he is still in that gorgeous suit. _How dare he look so good? Oh, good heavens! He can see it on my face, can’t he? He can just see on my face how wet I am, can’t he?_

Then real annoyance checks in when it occurs to her that him being in this gorgeous suit is somehow related to that _“Hello, darling”_ he had breathed into the phone three nights ago. Did he dress up for _her_ ? Whoever _she_ is? 

Elizabeth huffs out an irritated breath and looks at Mick sliding into a chair next to Annie. “They’re not children who need watching.”

Rio looks up from racking the pool balls into her eyes and meets her eyes. He tilts his head at her; considers her. Then he says, soft and low for only her ears, “Maybe _you_ need watching.” He goes back to racking the balls and gestures at her to break. 

_What? what does that even mean? Maybe I need watching? What does that mean?_ She doesn’t dare ask him. 

Elizabeth hesitates and watches him walk around the pool table to the head of it. “Why are we doing this? Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“ **We…** Don’t **_we_ ** have somewhere to be. Come here and break.”

She obeys him. She takes the cue ball in hand, places it somewhere behind the head-string and breaks. It’s a weak effort; she pots none of the balls. She grimaces. Now he’s got ball in hand and he gloats over it, “Foul break, ma. But I’ll allow it.”

“I don’t own a bar, do I?” 

He huffs out a breath. “Fair point,” he acknowledges.

“So we’re going to Canada?”

“You got another place you wanna go, darling?” He barely leans over the table; clearly this game comes easily to him. He pots three striped balls in quick succession. She watches him, swallows. She hates how he can be so unaffected while she… while she creams her panties from watching him. _It’s his hands… it’s his long, long hands on the pool table,_ she thinks. _They just look so… confident. Long. Beautiful. Capable._ She bites her lip. 

_“You got another place you wanna go, ma?”_

She’s feeling spiteful so she responds with, “Home… to my kids. Or anywhere other than your bar at noon; literally anywhere else.”

He scowls at her. “Yeah?” he comes around the pool table. And he’s not really looking at the table when he sinks the next shot. 

Rio bends over the table yet again; only three striped balls left. Elizabeth thinks he’s never looked so… No. Not tall but… _Long._ He has never looked so _long…_ stretched out over the green carpet of the pool table with his back nearly parallel to the table; _in this beautiful, beautiful suit, Rio, I would let you bend me…_ Her thought trails off and she licks her lower lip. 

Elizabeth tries not to think of all the places on her body those long hands have been since that very first night when she let him rip her panties off her in the bar bathroom not 20 paces away. She tries and fails. Because her body _knows_ Rio’s hands. It _remembers_ Rio’s hands palming her thighs; the press of his fingers dragging up the back of her thigh to the edge of her panties. 

Then he had yanked them off her. In the surprisingly quiet bathroom, the sound of the panties being torn off her had been so loud. So strangely erotic. If previously she had been wet, the sound of him ripping that small triangle of blue cloth off her had turned her liquid; made her practically drip with want. 

Watching Rio play pool feels to her like a strange sort of voyeurism. The though crosses Elizabeth’s mind that she might be turning quite lecherous. Oh, but there’s something sinfully satisfying about watching him prowl around the pool table, bend, make his shot with his characteristic careless grace. As he contemplates his next shot, Rio’s fingers drum on the railing of the table. 

Elizabeth watches them. Rio’s fingers. Rio’s fingers drumming on the railing of the table. 

**_His fingertips…_ **

His fingertips hit the railing of the table… quick and light… they graze along the side of the table… then up and down they go… 

**_His fingertips…_ **

His fingertips had brushed her clitoris and… quick and light… just as they had grazed her … gone up and down between her folds… 

**_His ring…_ **

The ring on his finger catches the light; flashes, flames gold as his hand moves along the table…

**_His ring…_ **

The ring on his finger had caught the light then too; _she_ had caught it's reflection in the mirror when it flashed, flamed gold as his hand moved up her thigh…

**_His hand… his fingers…_ **

His fingers beat out a rapid tattoo. 

**_His fingers rise… they fall…_ **

**_They rise and fall…_ **

_Rise and fall,_ Elizabeth thinks. She gulps. Hopes he hasn’t heard it. She swallows. Wrenches her mind back to the present.

_The present…_

Rio leans forward. Lines up his shot. His black cue-stick stretches out along the long line of his body, draws the eye back and to the swell of his ass. Elizabeth thinks she notices that her grip on the cue-stick in _her_ hand has gone unnecessarily tight.

But that’s because… well, because she has got an image in her mind; an almost tactile sensation in her hands; a memory from the previous day; her legs wrapped around his waist pulling him closer between her thighs… her hands digging into his lower back then reaching for him, wrapping around his ass cheeks and pulling him even closer as she neared her climax. 

She loves the soft sound he makes every time she does it; a groan of satisfaction… an involuntary noise of pleasure as though her hands on his ass pulling him deeper into her does it for him; does it for him because it tells him that she wants him so bad. And _Jesus_ , does she ever want him! 

She tries not to notice how his ass looks like no ass she has ever seen before… sculpted, firm… _taut. Taut, that’s the word._ She drags her eyes from his ass… and meets his eyes. A smirk is plastered on that beautiful mouth. She hates him a little for daring to catch her out. 

Still bent over, he looks over his shoulder and asks her, “Like what you see, sweetheart?”

She does. She likes what she sees. She does. Inadvertently, her tongue flicks out over her lower lip. 

Rio catches the little pink flash of the tip of her tongue flicking out and thinks that _Yes, she does. Yes, she likes what she sees. She_ **_likes_ ** _what she sees._ He smiles a twisted little smirk at her; a smug, smug quirk of the lip that she wishes she could slap off his face. The thought makes her hand tingle; _You bit me, you jerk. Twice._

_“Like what you see, sweetheart?”_

“You mean someone who is making me play pool when I could be home with my kids?” Elizabeth responds. He ignores that. Yes, he fuckin’ knows she should be home with her kids. It’s just that… unfortunately, he needs her today.

Then he steps really close to her and says, “I don’t have a good next shot… so get your head in the game, yeah?”

“Why? What are we playing for?” Elizabeth asks. Rio tilts his head at that, thinks about it for a small while. 

“Name your prize; you’re losing this game anyway.” 

Now _she_ thinks about that for a short moment. Yes, she is losing. There’s no way she wins against him. She is after all, an amateur who hasn’t touched a cue-stick save for a couple of times in her two semesters of college while he… _while he looks like that. Has anyone ever looked more self-satisfied than he does now? I’m losing but what harm can it do to name my prize? Can’t lose what you don’t have,_ she thinks.

“Next three weekends off for all of us. The three of us. No work. No jobs. No capricious demands.” 

Rio laughs, soft and yet somehow wicked… villainous even. “Really? And when you lose the game, you know I’ll definitely make you work them, don’t you? Even if I have to find you busy-work.”

‘Well, I certainly didn’t lose any previous pool game to you and yet, here we are working the second weekend in a row…” she shoots back.

He concedes. “Fair point.” 

“Aight, mami. Tell you what, because I want to give you a fighting chance, I’ll even help you work on your grip.”

“What?” Elizabeth doesn’t understand. 

“I’ll teach you.” Rio says. Unbeknownst to each other, they both think, _STOP sign._ Elizabeth shivers. 

Rio misses his next shot and the cue-ball drops into the corner pocket; a scratch foul. She thinks that maybe that has something to do with the fact that when he leans over the table, he is watching her out of the corner of his eye. Or maybe he really didn’t have a clear shot. 

“What are we waiting for?” Elizabeth asks.

He’s waiting for Dietrich. A thought came to him last night that he has a whole set of underutilized businesses now. Now that he thinks he knows that Dietrich is an ally, he needs to work out details to clean some money at the strip clubs Dietrich runs. He glances at his watch, then the bar door, then back to Elizabeth.

“Stay in your little lane.” Rio grins wickedly at her. He knows how much Elizabeth hated it the first time he told her that. She hates it when he won’t share information with her; when he pigeonholes her. 

“Come here and let me show you show how to hold that cue-stick like you own one stool in a bar,” Rio tells her. 

For an instant, Elizabeth’s brow furrows in incomprehension then it clears and she looks at the bar; looks at his usual spot and the three stools that sit open each night. She doesn’t know that now, no one even asks to sit there anymore but he thinks she knows what he means. 

His usual spot. 

Her usual spot. 

Their usual spot. 

Him; Rio… 

Her; Elizabeth… 

…and Mick. 

She looks questioningly at him, glances back at their spot at the bar and then to him again; the question is still on her face. He lets it go unanswered and steps behind her to adjust her grip on the cue-stick.

  
  


**چوچو**

Mick gets a drink and slumps into the seat adjacent to Annie. 

_“Watch them for me, Mick.”_

What does that even mean? They’re not children who need babysitting. Plus, even if they do, when did he become official babysitter and hand-holder of all housewives in Detroit?

 _Fuck’s sake, Rio. How do you keep sticking me with these jobs that don’t even count as jobs? You couldn’t just have sent me to do a pickup with Dietrich or something? Watching these two? More housewives?_ **_That’s_ ** _my lot in life? And Christ! the short one has a mouth on her… just like her sister. Well, I guess I should be thankful; anything is better than watching Mrs. B. these days… what with you randomly showing up where she is and sending me back here to the bar._

Mick takes a sip of his beer. _Don’t think I don’t know that every time you send me here to the bar and give me busy-work, it’s because you just want to get all up in her business. I know. I get it. I fuckin’ know, okay? I hate those mindless errands; you should just tell me to get lost coz you’ve got plans. You think you’re so clever, sneaking around with her._

_Jesus, Rio; why can’t you just get your act together and just decide what you two are? Why the fuck is she still married if you guys are so hopelessly in love… or in lust or whatever? I think she fuckin’ loves you, you asshole. Better make up your mind quick and tell her you do too. Coz she sure doesn’t look at her dumbass of a hubby the way she looks at you, man. Like, Fuck! if a woman gave me those eyes she gives you, I’d either marry her or cross several state-lines trying to get away from her._

Mick glares at his beer. He doesn’t get it; _Why does Rio do scared; do stupid; do mad things around Mrs. B?_ Then Mick answers his own question; _Because he fuckin’ loves her and that makes her fuckin’ dangerous to him. and he’s fuckin’ helpless against that love… and that probably scares him stupid._

Mick nods. He agrees with himself. _Aaaand… Mrs. B is a loose-cannon; Scary crazy… Crazy scary… Scary because of the crazy. Yep,_ he thinks. _Rio is right to be fuckin’ scared. I’d be scared stupid too, man._

He moves on to more pressing matters; _why do people drink warm beer?_ Mick doesn’t have an answer to that. _Since when did Ricardo start serving_ **_me_ ** _warm beers?_ He glares at Ricky who raises an amused eyebrow.

Mick takes a swig of his beer. He hates it. _You two started this day-drinking business, Rio. Mrs. B did… then you fuckin’ joined her and now look at me; drinking on a Saturday before noon like a damn cliché. In the company of two suburban housewives._ He takes another swig. Hates the warm beer. Hates it some more. Hates the whole drinking-in-the-daytime thing. Still, he thinks he needs something stronger. _Today, I’d even take bourbon._

He watches Annie push her bourbon around on the table indecisively. Then she makes a gagging noise and a nauseated face and pushes her drink away. She’s talking to no one in particular, perhaps more to herself than to anyone else at the table when she says,

“Look at them.” 

It’s not much of a riddle who _“them”_ is. Mick does; he looks at them and now he too wants to vomit. Mrs. B is cue-ball in hand; she is preparing to start playing her innings. She’s got her left hand in a rudimentary open bridge position with the cue-stick lying in the bridge formed by her index finger and thumb. Her cue-stick is held too far out from her body instead of along the length of her body. It’s clear to anyone with eyes to see that she’s a hopeless amateur but she’s got the basic idea at least.

Ostensibly, Rio is helping Mrs. B get her grip on the cue-stick right. It’s just that… something about how he is doing it seems… wrong somehow. Lewd somehow. Filthy somehow. 

And yet it seems like to Mrs. B, how Rio is doing it is perfectly... welcome somehow. Like she even wants it somehow.

Rio is standing behind Mrs. B and his left hand is splayed over her left hand; his fingers seem oddly placed as though they are half-pressing Mrs. B’s fingers together and half-attempting to slip into the gaps between her fingers and twine his hand with hers. Rio’s right hand moves; moves in a way that raises the little hairs on the inside of Mick’s ears. Rio’s hand draws Mrs. B’s right hand back along the cue-stick. She gets a better grip on it. She tilts her head; for a moment, her face slips out of profile and into a full-on view. Mick sees the small smile on her mouth that she then bites off. She is pleased. 

But Mick has a horrible feeling that the pleased look on her face has less to do with her new grip on the cue-stick than with Rio’s new grip on her. Because now, Rio’s hand is sliding; dragging.

Dragging up from the fingers she has closed around the cue-stick… 

Dragging along the back of that small fist to her wrist…

Dragging slowly… 

Dragging deliberately…

Dragging on up…

Dragging up her forearm then…

Lingering at her elbow, presumably to adjust the angle of her elbow into the appropriate right-angled conformation for a good shot then… 

Lingering up her arm with his fingertips grazing the inside of it…

And Mick wouldn't willingly stake his life on it but it’s possible that Rio is lingeringly grazing the side of her breast with his knuckles.

Then Rio seems to put a little pressure in his touch on Mrs. B’s shoulder and though it’s clear from the view of his profile that he doesn’t say a word, he might as well have spoken a command to her, because she obeys the pressure of his fingertips and simply inclines her back, presses herself lower, sinks closer to the table. 

She’s feeling. Feeling the gentle pressure of his hand on her shoulder. She swallows a sound at the memory of the touch of his hand on her shoulder that night in the bathroom; pushing her down, bending her so he could her slide his cock into her slick and needy cunt. Just right now, she really wishes she weren’t thinking of him holding his hand there on her shoulder, him bent over her, doing it again; pulling out, repeating that first motion, sinking his cock in one long stroke into her vagina till he was sheathed to the hilt, then doing it again for her moaning pleasure. That same long hand which has just been holding the cue-stick, now pressing on her shoulder. Just as that night, while Dean waited, Rio's hand had been holding her in place by the shoulder… then moving slowly, lower and lower it had gone then, travelling down her back…

Rio’s hand never once stops moving; lower and lower it goes now, travelling the expanse of Mrs. B’s back. With a light touch here then a small push there, it moves. With his hand never once leaving her body, fingers spread wide as though to feel the most of her that he possibly can, as if to let _her_ feel the most of him that she possibly can, Rio moves his hand down the right side of her back. His hand lingers, he seems to say something to her; she hesitates… then draws the cue-stick back. 

Mick thinks he is oh-so-glad that Rio and Mrs. B are facing away and he can’t see all of Rio’s face; can only see the right side of his face and that only in profile. Because Mick, thinks he knows the hungry look he would see on Rio’s face; that unleashed, wild and ravenous creature prowling loose in Rio’s eyes. That famished beast that comes out for Mrs. B; desperate to have her and devour her. That starving creature that never seems to have enough of her; never seems to be sated. 

“Jesus!” Annie swears next to Mick.

_Jesus!_ is exactly right. Because who other than Rio and Mrs. B could turn a simple game of pool into such a display of near-obscene foreplay. Rio’s right hand slips on lower to the small of Mrs. B’s back. Pauses there. His fingers splay wider still, his thumb presses into the middle of her spine; while his index finger spans her lower back and curls around to grip the rim of her hipbone. The gold ring on his pinkie flashes. Catches the light where is rests lightly… on the swell of Mrs. B’s bottom.

Elizabeth stifles the sound she feels wanting to rise up in her throat to betray her. She wants not to think of his hands gripping her ass that night, coming down her back to splay over the swell of her cheek and curl around her hip bone. She steals a glance at his hand…

Rio murmurs, “Eyes front, Elizabeth.” She blushes.

Then Mick chugs his beer, suddenly desperately eager to drown himself in a vat of 140 proof yet simultaneously nauseated even as he downs the beer. _Fuck!_ Because Rio pulls Mrs. B’s right hip back a little, presses her back into more of an incline by leaning closer over her; practically unfurling his whole length over her entire body, stretching his impeccably-attired leanness over what is Mrs. B’s apparently, still-yielding body.

And now Mick just wants to pluck out his eyeballs, wash them in a bottle of bourbon and he thinks, he would almost be glad to leave them suspended in that bottle of bourbon than to have to put them back in his face again and ever be forced to sit through another minute of Rio and Mrs. B _‘playing pool’._ Because while a minute ago, Mick was glad not to be able to see Rio’s face, now he suddenly realises that he is looking at Rio’s sculpted rear; Rio’s sculpted rear in that slim-fit suit which leaves not much to the imagination. 

And pressed firmly beneath it, is Mrs. B’s rounded derriere.

Elizabeth’s mouth feels dry. Dry and… _I’m parched,_ she thinks. And she is. Thirsty. She could almost kill for a drink. Or him. It shames her a little how bad she just wants to lean back into him and not to think of anything but his hands. His hands gripping her ass, lifting her, holding her against the wall… 

She inhales a long breath and waits for him to tell her to make her stroke and sink this shot. _Make my stroke and sink this shot,_ the thought recurs. 

_Make my stroke and sink this shot,_

_Just as he had made his..._ her lips part. _Just as he had sunk his…_ she snaps her mouth shut. Traps the panting noise before it leaves her. _I’m so thirsty._

His left hand holds her hair away from her face…

It makes her think that she could almost feel the grip that his hand had had on the back of her neck as she climaxed and he came along with her and spilled into her.

She doesn’t quite repress the small shiver that runs through her when she remembers how as he had climaxed, he had buried his face deeper in her neck and hair, lifted her for a few moments clear off the wall and by the arm under her ass, borne her full weight and held her whole body against him and stifled his own panting moan in her curls. 

Since that night, every time he has put a gun to her head and held her by her neck, she remembers that moment. The guns; they give her a thrill of fear. The memory of his arm bearing her up to him; it gives her a thrill... of warm, wet, wanting excitement right between her thighs. 

She inhales slowly. 

Mick wants to leave the table and go to the bar; get a stiffer drink or seven, turn his back on them but he feels transfixed; petrified; frozen in place as though by headlights on a deer. _I’m the fuckin’ deer in the headlights. Oh fuck! Mrs. B’s eyes are probably doing that thing they do for Rio; growing in her face like she’s prey that wants to be eaten by him. Jesus!_

And no one can convince Mick that he is overreacting because he has seen Rio shoot pool with a lot of people before; some of them women and not once, _not fuckin’ once_ has he wanted to throw up in his mouth. Not once before has Mick wanted to take himself out back and rub gravel in his eyes rather than look at Rio shooting pool. _Can they fuckin get a room already and not come out until they’ve got that energy dealt with?_

Because Mick realises that what he is looking at is Mrs. B leaning over the table with the cue-stick in hand… but what Mick is looking at also, is Rio bent over Mrs. B. And Rio doesn’t look uncomfortable. Or stiff. And Mrs. B doesn’t look uncomfortable or stiff either. 

In fact, the opposite might be true. Rio is bent over Mrs. B in a manner to suggest that is a familiar, well-tried and tested pose for the two of them… and… _aaaaaaargh!_ Mick wants to unsee this because _Christ!_ now that he looks closer, Mrs. B seems to be less _leaning_ over the table than _bending over the table_ **_for_ ** _Rio and pressing back into him_ ; pushing her derriere into him.

**چوچو**

“Kill me already,” Annie swears next to him and it’s as though she snatched the thought whole from Mick’s mind; as though her mouth simply opened and Mick’s thoughts were coming out of her unfiltered mouth.

Mick says nothing, just turns to Annie and clinks his bottle to her glass. 

“What? You too? They make you wanna go out and eat your own bullet, Killer?”

Mick grimaces at her and thinks that on any other day, he might be irritated by Annie and her uninhibited impudence, but _Good lord! A person who understands how I fuckin’ feel. Kill me already so I never have to look at that fully-clothed, porno-in-waiting happening over there between Rio and Mrs. B._ At the sound of pool balls knocking together, Mick starts to glance back at Rio and Mrs. B, then he shudders and looks resolutely back at Annie.

“Is it genetic?” Mick addresses the question to Annie. Ruby is staring at the couple at the pool-table; she doesn’t have revulsion written on her face. Instead, an oddly pensive expression sits on her brow. Mick thinks she’s not even hearing a word that’s said between him and Annie.

_“Is it genetic?”_

“What? Is what genetic?” Annie inquires.

“The mouth on you. You just can’t zip it, can you? Always have to say that one thing to rile someone up; is it genetic? And did you just get the more severe form while _she…”_ Mick nods in Mrs. B’s direction. “… she got the more polished form of it and yet at the end of the day… It’s exactly the same condition that you two have, I think.”

“Gee… never thought I’d hear them.”

It’s Mick’s turn to be stumped. “Hear what, Smurfette?”

“Words… words coming out of you, trigger-finger.” Against his best intentions, Mick sniggers. _Okay, maybe I’m finally losing it but I think I could see my way clear to liking you, shortstop._

“That’s the best you can do? Trigger-finger? That’s your best shot?”

Annie doesn’t hesitate. Later, Mick wonders if she had been thinking of these sobriquets beforehand. They trade each other barb for barb. 

“Man-Friday.”

“Small fry.”

“You’re going to have to get more creative than that, Bruiser.”

“That is literally my job description so might wanna think on that, Thumbelina.” 

Mick is gratified to see her gulp. But why is he not surprised that she rallies.

“Hey, Goliath. You know that all one needs is a small sling and a well-placed pebble, right? The bigger they are, the harder they fall and all that…”

“I’d like to see you try, Bite-sized.” He glares at her; puts on his most menacing expression and is rewarded by a small shudder. Annie raises her hands in mock surrender; maybe she’s just realized that she should probably keep her mouth more tightly shut. It might not be a good idea to offend the man with the gun. 

Then Mick grins and clinks his nearly-empty beer against her glass and says, “Probably shouldn’t encourage you but you really are a firecracker.”

“Why, thank you, Cue-ball,” Annie retorts. Mick rubs his bald head. 

Annie gets in one last good dig, “Thank you very much indeed… but has anyone told you that no one likes a bully, _Michael?_ Has anyone, **_Michael_ ** **?”** She practically purrs it.

Mick’s expression is filled with disgust. _Fuck! She sounds like Mrs. B. when she says Michael._ He remembers Mrs. B saying into the phone, _“Hello, darling Michael.”_ Mick shudders. “Of course, she told you. Christ! Is there anything that one of you can know without the others knowing of it immediately?” 

Then he rubs a hand over his bald, tattooed head and says, “Hey girlie, has anyone ever told you that no one likes a wise-ass?”

Annie grins and makes a face. Mick is… oddly gratified. _Huh! I think I could actually get to like you, shortstop… if business doesn’t intrude and make me have to kill you first._

Ruby looks up at Mick. She barely listened to the conversation between Mick and Annie; she’s been watching Beth and Rio. And now she thinks she has an odd answer to Mick’s question; 

_“Is there anything that one of you can know without the others knowing of it immediately?”_

Because while a few days ago Ruby would have said an emphatic _“No”,_ for the last few days she’s been inclined to think, _“Maybe… possibly… I’m not sure.”_ But now… right now… at this particular moment, she thinks _“Yes.”_

_“Is there anything that one of you can know without the others knowing of it immediately?”_

Yes. Yes, because Ruby has a secret. A secret that she can’t tell Annie. 

Ruby sips at her bourbon and turns to Annie. “How long are we going to be here?” 

Annie responds, “I guess until Gangfriend and Big Bird over here say we can go?”

Ruby says, “We should get another round. I think I need another one.” She does. She thinks she needs another drink. 

“You and me both, sister.”

“It’s on me,” Mick says and goes to get another round from Ricky behind the bar.

**چوچو**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by season 3 episode 10 pool table scene: I've been dying to do this scene and after the Good Girl's Season 4 promo, I brought it forward a couple of chapters.  
> Season 4 promises to be sizzling. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy yourselves.


	48. Nothing But Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth shivers; her body trembles under his. She thinks, "Fitzpatrick! Rio knows. Rio knows where I was last night. He knows about the hitman. And this is all just a ploy to get us here. And we’re all dead. 
> 
> Now two other people know something else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Creamsicle_sunset,  
> Does it sound right? The German in Dietrich's mind? Does it? 
> 
> Oh and see how you put me on to Matt Maeson and now I'm hooked! 😘😘

**_Nothing but Pain; Put It on Me_ **

**Brio:** _You are the cold inescapable proof_

**_You're the evil, the way in the life, and the truth_ **

**_You're revival, beginnin' and you're genocide_ **

_And I watch in wonder_

_Storm in the sky, fire in the trees_

_If there's nothing but pain, put it on me_

**Rio:** _I know that you'd never feel like I do_

_And I'd break into pieces right in front of you_

_And I'd burn down the city and string up the noose_

_And you'll watch in wonder_

**Put It on Me** by **Matt Maeson**

  
  


Elizabeth walks around the pool table. Rio points out the best placed shots. It’s counter-intuitive because at first glance, she wants to sink the spotted balls nearest the pockets. But Rio tells her to take a harder shot now; she has the chance of knocking his striped number 13 ball further away from the pocket if she plays her more difficult number 4. 

And if she manages this small challenge, then she will suddenly have an inning with all five of her remaining balls propitiously adjacent to the pockets. Even if she doesn’t sink her number 4, she will effectively have hidden his number 13 ball from him, by rolling her number four in front of it, sandwiching it between two of her spotted balls and making it impossible for him to pocket it without sinking one of hers or causing a cue scratch. She listens to him with mild surprise on her face. _Who knew there was a strategy to playing pool?_

She says it out loud, “Oh. I never knew there was a strategy to playing pool. I always thought you just pick the ball nearest the pocket. Then… I thought you just point and shoot.”

They both hear it when she says it, “Then… I thought you just point and shoot.”

Rio freezes. Inhales hard. The colour drains from Elizabeth’s face. She wants to die right there. In her chest is the wild fluttering of her heart. Her heart that he stole from her the night he stole ice-cream and apple pie and made her beg from him; it thuds and thuds against her ribs and she thinks it’s pounding a futile effort because there’s no blood making it to her brain and she feels faint… and her fingers feel ghostly and weak as though she’s forgotten how to hold anything.

_“Then… I thought you just point and shoot.”_

_“…I thought you just point and shoot.”_

_“…you just point and shoot.”_

_“…point and shoot.”_

Rio recovers first… or at least he seems to. He comes around the table, applies himself to her back and says, “Aight, mama… try for the number 4.” Elizabeth breathes in and steadies herself.

Rio’s hands wrap around her again, left hand sliding down her arm to clasp around her fingers; he arranges her fingers into another open bridge. On the cuff of his left sleeve which pokes out the perfect half-inch beyond the sleeve of his suit jacket, the sapphire in the cufflink catches the light and winks maliciously at her. His right hand adjusts her grip on the cue-stick, draws it in closer to her body. 

But there’s something hard and uncompromising about the way Rio then puts his hand on her right shoulder and pushes down. Elizabeth bends and her body is stiff with the enduring fear from the Night… the Night she… _pointed and shot;_ **_Him_**. Then he leans over her, and his body is stretched taut above her and his warmth is against her back when he very deliberately speaks words from that awful Night close to her ears, “It’s a difficult shot, mama. So come on, just like we practiced. Put on your big-girl panties… and shoot straight.”

_“…come on, just like we practiced. Put on your big-girl panties… and shoot straight.”_

_“…come on, just like we practiced. Put on your big-girl panties… and shoot.”_

Elizabeth’s eyes squeeze shut. She gasps out a sound, “Rio…”

_“…come on, just like we practiced. Put on your big-girl panties… and shoot.”_

“Now, ma.”

Then his hand is at her right hip and he is pulling her hip and body closer to his; pulling her hip into him; pulling her body closer to him like he needs her. Like he needs her heat against him. Like he needs her close now that they’re flaying each other with words. 

“Rio…”

His voice is cold. Hard. Cruel. He shoves the knife in her, it hits home. He twists the blade, “You’re pointing, sweetheart… So what you think? You got what it takes? Shoot. Now”

As it always has, her body obeys him. Her right hand pushes the cue-stick forward; the tip of the cue strikes the white cue ball but her hands are shaking and all the while, her eyes are squeezed tightly shut so she causes a double foul. She makes an illegal shot by striking Rio’s striped number 13 first and although she fortuitously pockets her spotted number 10 ball, the white ball also rolls into pocket; a cue ball scratch foul. 

_“You’re pointing, sweetheart… So what you think? You got what it takes? Shoot. Now”_

  
  


As the balls clack then drop into their pockets, in her head, Elizabeth hears nothing but his words from another Night long ago, _“So what you think? You got what it takes?”_ and _“You wanna be the king; you gotta kill the king. This stuff’s medieval, darling.”_

Then her voice, a disembodied echo from the darkest recesses of her mind, _“How do I know it’s loaded?”_

Rio’s voice in her dining room, _“A full clip adds a pound.”_

  
  


_“…come on, just like we practiced. Put on your big-girl panties… and shoot… You’re pointing, sweetheart… So what you think? You got what it takes? Shoot.”_

Elizabeth shivers; her body trembles under his. She thinks, _Fitzpatrick! Rio knows. Rio knows where I was last night. Oh God, he knows where I was last night; He knows about the hitman. And this is all just a ploy to get us here. And we’re all dead._

Her heart pounds and pounds. Thuds and thuds. Tries to flee her body. She feels fainter yet. Her hands shake. Her fingers tremble, part. She loses the open bridge formation she had made with her left hand. The tip of the cue-stick drops to the green carpet of the pool table. Her shoulders slump. Her right elbow falls away from her body. She would sway but her body is between his and the pool table. She moans a quiet sound of distress.

_“…come on, just like we practiced. Put on your big-girl panties… and shoot… You’re pointing, sweetheart… So what you think? You got what it takes? Shoot.”_

“Elizabeth,” Rio whispers against her neck. His chest aches. His left hand drops hers and goes instead to her hair. He combs the curtain of strawberry-gold curls from the left side of her face. He inhales; breathes her in; 

**_Cherry blossom;_ ** He breathes out a shaky exhale, tries to catch his breath. He puts his nose in the sweet spot below and behind her ear and tries to breathe again; he catches a hit of it; 

**_Cherry blossom_ ** **;** His chest aches and aches. He feels like choking; he wants to gasp. His eyes are tight; he is working to keep the guilt off his face. Because he stuck the knife in her. He stuck the knife in her knowing that his baby’s heart is beating in her. He draws a long breath; it turns shallow and ragged; 

**_Cherry blossom;_ ** He stuck that vicious long blade in her and it hit home. And he twisted and she gasped out his name. Except now he thinks it also twisted in his gut because Elizabeth is shaking in his arms, and his chest aches because he thinks he knows he loves her and he doesn’t really want to hurt her and he can’t ever tell her why he hurts her but he just needs to hurt her and all the while his baby’s heart is beating in her.

**_My baby’s heart is beating in her;_ ** and suddenly, all he can think about is the sound of it, filling the air around him; _whomp, whomp, whomp, whomp, whomp._ And now in his mind the memory of it sounds so loud, it’s almost like a physical thing, squeezing the air out from the room, from his lungs... from his aching chest… from her trembling body. 

**_Her trembling body;_ ** She is shaking in his arms. _Christ! Mami, you’re shaking so bad._ And now he doesn’t care if anyone else sees them and realises his baby is in her. He wraps his arm around her and he holds tight.

 ** _He holds tight;_** and his left hand drops from her hair and finds her cold, clammy, near-lifeless hand left hand again and he slips his fingers between hers and rubs. 

**_Rubs;_** rubs her left hand and rubs his hand over his baby and says those words he told her the night he finally saw what had been in front of him all along that he had been too blind to see before; her pregnant with his baby. The words he said then when he was loving her and trying to convince himself that he was still just hitting it, “I got you, darling. It’s okay. I got you, sweetheart.”

**_“I got you, sweetheart.”;_** she hears him and the words resound in her mind. _“I got you, sweetheart.”_ She knows those words. She knows those words and what they mean; his love for his baby, his happiness, his relief, his almost-surrender to her, his almost-love for her. _“I got you, sweetheart.”_ She gasps; the air rushes back into her lungs. She can breathe again. He wouldn’t say those words. Not if he was going to kill her. 

**_Not if he was going to kill her;_** Not now, anyway. Not if he was going to kill her like she is going to kill him. _Oh, Jesus! I’m going to kill him and his baby is in me. I’m going to kill him… and then I’ll just lie down and die. I’ll kill him and then I’ll die._ She bites down a sob. And all the while, Rio’s hands rub on her belly and on his baby and on her hand. _My hands,_ she thinks. _My hands._

**_My hands;_** She hears his words again from a distant past, his voice reflected in Time by the hard surface of that awful Night; thrown back to her with the clarity of her face in her bathroom mirror, _“You wanna get down in the dirt so bad, but you wanna keep your hands clean.”_

**_“You wanna keep your hands clean”;_ ** She thinks, _I do. I wanna keep my hands clean. I don’t want to do this, Rio. I don’t want to kill you. I don’t want to be the king._

**_The king;_** _The kingdom’s in my name._ Elizabeth knows he already claimed her as his; repeatedly. _“The kingdom’s in your name.”_ Another echo from the past. His voice cast back right from this bar. she can almost hear the sound of the key she placed next to his glass. His words had given her pause; she had faltered before she pushed the door of the bar open and stepped out into the sunshine. She shakes. She drops the cue-stick. _I don’t want to do this, Rio… but I have to. And it will have be okay because of Annie and Ruby and Max and Lucy._ She can’t breathe again. She tells herself, _It’s has to be okay… It’s okay… It’s okay…_

**_It’s okay;_** Rio’s voice breaks into her thoughts. “It’s alright. It’s okay… It’s alright… It’s okay.” She straightens; he steps back. She turns to him; tears sparkle unshed in her eyes; unseeing of anything or anyone else, he steps back in. He lifts his hand, pushes her hair back with a pinkie, takes her terror away and in his face, there’s an expression she’s rarely seen there; rarely seen there but she saw it there on the Night he gave her the golden gun and told her to kill him -kill the king if she dared, then took the gun back from her hand, then comforted her… then shot Dean. On his face, there is something soft, something comforting, something affirming, something like he believes in her. Then he says again the words she needs to hear, “It’s alright. It’s okay.” 

**_“It’s alright. It’s okay.”;_ ** And her comfort is in those words so Elizabeth sighs relief. Then on her face Rio thinks he sees a different type of terror. Then it's gone but he's almost sure he saw it.

In those words, unbeknownst to him, Rio has sealed his fate. Because… on the Night that he gave her the golden gun and told her to kill him -kill the king if she dared, then took the gun back from her hand, then comforted her, he pushed her hair back with a pinkie, took her terror away, said those same words, “It’s alright. It’s okay.” 

But after pushing her hair back with his pinkie and taking her fear away, he still turned around… _and shot Dean._

So Elizabeth knows, that even with that look in his eye, that look that he’s giving her again right now, that look like he could almost love her; that love for the baby in her that means he might never shoot her; when he next wants to hurt her, he might yet turn around… 

_And shoot someone she loves._

_Annie._

_Ruby._

And still, Rio’s voice is soft when still unthinking, unseeing, uncaring of whose eyes are on them, he takes the smallest of small steps which brings him closer to Elizabeth and makes a garbled reproduction of the last thing he told her that first night a gun went off between them, 

“It’s okay; we’re good, darling.”

In her mind she hears, _“It’s okay…”_ **_Bang._ ** He shoots Dean. She screams. He says, _“Okay. Now we’re good, darling.”_

“It’s okay; we’re good, darling.”

Elizabeth tries to nod. But she can’t. _I have to kill you, Rio. I don’t have a choice because I know you’ll kill someone I love. And I don’t love Dean. And you know I don’t love Dean. So when you want to destroy me, it’ll only be Annie or Ruby you could kill. And I think I love you, Rio. I know it will kill me to kill you again. I barely survived the first time._ Her mouth twists. 

Rio hates it; hates that twist in her mouth. He knows that he was cruel to say those words, to stick that knife in her. He doesn’t know why he did it; except for the fact that he is afraid. **_He is afraid._ ** Afraid that one day, she’ll do the thing he can’t do to her now. _I’m afraid one day you’ll kill me, sweetheart. And I think it will be soon, darling. And it’s killing me. And I hate that it gives me a thrill then terrifies me._

_And even though I gave you a gun, I think you’re too smart to use it. So I won’t know how you’re coming at me. And I won’t see you coming. And even if I do see you coming, I can’t kill you anymore, darling. And I think maybe I love you, Elizabeth. I think I know I maybe love you. And I think you’ll kill me, sweetheart. Soon._

  
  


The bar door opens. 

**Rio:** _Darling can’t you see_

_I’m a broken man with addictive tendencies_

**_And I think I love you_ **

_But I don’t ever think I can_

_Ever learn how to love just right_

**Brio:** _So run away from me_

_**Rio:** Run as far as your blue eyes can see_

_**Beth:** Run as far as your dark brown eyes can see_

**Brio:** _Just as soon as you know_

**_Oh and all the ways that you won’t bend_ **

_Are the only ways I live my life_

**_Oh and I don’t ever think I can_ **

**_Ever learn how to love you right_ **

_I think i’m better on my own_

_But im so obsessed with you_

_I get so lost in you_

**Mood Music Credit: Tribulation** by **Matt Maeson**

  
  


Mick is out of his seat and has a gun to Dietrich’s head before Dietrich has fully taken three steps in. 

Dietrich thinks, _This is really starting to get old._ _I’m not here to kill Rio, Mick._ Then he has a chilling thought that no one, no one who isn’t the people he has found in this bar could possibly get close enough to kill Rio because…

Because Rio will never turn his back on anyone he doesn’t trust and if he does turn his back on anyone, it will still never be unprotected because Mick will always be right there; behind the person behind Rio; with a gun to the back of that person’s head. So you would first have to take Mick out before you can get a shot at Rio… _except if you’re the people in this room._

Because Rio has his back to all of them except one. 

**_Rio;_** That’s when Dietrich actually looks at him and _sees_ him. Sees him dressed as for a wedding and with his hand in the hair of a bombshell blonde. Dietrich thinks, _Holy shit!_ _It’s her._

 ** _Her;_** The woman who shot him; shot Rio. _Was zur Hölle!_ From more than half a decade of translating his German swear words to his American friends, he mentally translates the curse words into English, _What the hell?!_ _It’s_ _her._

**_Her;_** The woman who shot Rio! Yet Rio still killed Yuri for her. Killed Yuri and killed him hard. Killed Yuri and five of his mindless goons. _Es ist wirklich sie._ Again he translates for the benefit of his absent friends; _It’s really her._

 ** _Her;_** _Heiliger strohsack!_ Needlessly, Dietrich translates again. _Holy crap!_ Dietrich thinks he knows now why Yuri had to die. Because, _fuck!_ When Dietrich walked in, Rio was holding her with both hands -one in her hair and the other on her waist- and he looked uncaring of who had their eyes on them. And as for the bombshell… Dietrich swallows. _As for her…_

**_Her;_ ** As for her… She, the blonde in Rio’s arms, was looking in his face with this strangely tortured look but she too seemed unseeing of anyone else in this place. As though, they only had eyes for each other. She only has eyes for him… and _holy crap!_ Rio only has eyes for her.

 ** _Her;_** _Heiliger strohsack!_ _I think Rio loves her. loves her like, holy crap! Rio_ ** _loves_** _her. Loves her in all-caps._

 ** _Her;_** _Gott helfe dem Mann, der zwichen ihm und sie kommen._ Out of habit Dietrich translates to his friends. _God help the man who comes between Rio and her,_ then he rolls his eyes at himself;

 ** _Her;_** _Heiliger strohsack!_ _She’s beautiful as fuck! Holy crap, her tits._ And is she… Dietrich takes another look at her.

 **_Her;_ ** Scheiβe! _“In English, Dietrich. So we have a hope of understanding you,”_ the voice of his brother-in-law speaks in his mind. _Is_ **_she_ ** _… pregnant? Is_ **_she_ ** _having a baby?_ He knows he is staring at her. He can’t help himself. **_Is she having Rio’s baby?_ ** _Holy fuck!_

Rio’s voice is chilling… arctic when he says to Dietrich, 

“For Anya’s sake, don’t make me do to you what I did that night to Yuri. I was so fuckin’ cold, Dietrich but you know I’ll do it again if I have to.”

Dietrich struggles to look away from her body and meets Rio’s eyes. And Rio’s gaze is like a thousand shards of jagged icicles aimed straight at Dietrich. 

And standing by his side, half-leaning on him, Elizabeth who has never heard the name Yuri, sees Mick quail… and she suddenly knows, Rio is talking about the night that he was so cold and shaky. Shaky from killing someone… maybe several someones. That night when on Rio’s face, had been something she had never seen before but had immediately understood; something hard and tired and haunted; like spent homicide; like murder already done.

_“For Anya’s sake, don’t make me do to you what I did that night to Yuri. I was so fuckin’ cold, Dietrich but you know I’ll do it again if I have to.”_

And this handsome guy with sea-green eyes standing just inside the door, _he_ shudders and Elizabeth sees him struggle to tear his eyes away from her cleavage. Yes, she knows, even covered as she is in her coat, men can’t help looking. But at Rio’s words, this guy, Dietrich flinches and meets Elizabeth’s eyes, then he tears his gaze away from her and on to Rio. 

Elizabeth knows why he has done it; why he has flinched and torn his gaze from **_her;_ **

_“For Anya’s sake, don’t make me do to you what I did that night to Yuri. I was so fuckin’ cold, Dietrich but you know I’ll do it again if I have to.”_

The night Rio killed someone… **_he did it for me._ ** She shivers. Rio turns to her. For a moment he just looks at her. And looks at her. Looks at her like he can see something no one else can. And like he wants her to see him. She does. She sees him. She sees what he has done. She knows what he has done; for her. **_For me._ **

On that moonlit night. Elizabeth thinks, _you left me at the Arden and you went out and killed someone… maybe several someones._ **_For me._ ** _I see you, Rio. And I think I know now what at least one of those three black bars on your left arm means; Yuri. You killed him for me whoever he was. Yuri._

A name for which she has no face to attach. A name for which she doesn’t know that no face exists. Because Rio killed Yuri hard. Killed him quick but killed him hard just the same. And left Yuri… faceless and beyond the reach of light. _Why did you kill him for me, Rio? Why?_

Then Dietrich’s suspicion is confirmed because as Rio nods at Dietrich and jerks his head in the direction of his usual spot, Rio takes his hand off the bombshell with the red-gold hair and says quietly but loud enough for Dietrich who is standing closest to them to make out, “Do you wanna talk to your girls, ma? If you need to call home, now’s the time to do it. I’ll be done in five minutes and we can go.” 

But just before he lets her slip past him. Rio’s hand grazes her belly. Grazes her belly and lingers… on the baby under her coat. And Dietrich sees it. And he thinks he is the only one who has seen it. And he thinks he has possibly stared too hard again because he looks up and meets Mick’s eyes. And there’s something unnerving about Mick’s eyes. Then Dietrich thinks that maybe Mick has seen what he, Dietrich, has seen Rio’s hands do. 

Well, one other person has seen something. This person won’t hold their tongue.

  
  
  
  



	49. Tears and Recriminations: Her Soft Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rio needs Elizabeth to help him get a job done. Elizabeth and her soft touch.
> 
> They lash out at each other and some things are are brought out into the sunlight.
> 
> I predict kissing and making up in their FUTURE.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys.  
> It's Friday not Wednesday I'm told.
> 
> So pls enjoy 2 chapters and hope to get the next couple out soon.

**_Her Soft Touch_ **

_ When will I be enough for you? _

_ When will I make you happy ? _

_ I’ve been trying for so long to please you _

_ But sometimes I feel like I get nowhere _

_ \-- _

_ Been trying to do right for some time _

_ But you know it ain’t easy _

_ I feel like I’m losing you  _

_ But I won’t let you leave me _

_ \-- _

_ What do you need from a man  _

_ ‘Cause I’m trying real hard to be _

**Mood Music Credit: Trying Real Hard** by **Charlie sanderson** and **Dick Groves**

  
  


“Hey, Dietrich,’ what are you drinking, today?”

“I gotta tell you, Rio. I could get used to this,” Dietrich says. Rio smiles at him. 

“Name your poison, Dietrich.” 

“1 tusker, please.”

“Cool. Good choice.”

While they wait for Ricky to get their beers, Rio turns to Mick and says, “I have a job for you, Mick. And it needs to be done today.” 

Mick leans in and listens to the quiet instructions. He nods and he asks himself why this comes as no surprise to him. He thinks maybe he’s been expecting it. He’s just not sure if this job is because she has earned it with the job she’s doing today… or maybe it’s a  _ “gift” _ simply because Rio wants her. His mind shies away from the memory of Mrs. B’s bottom pressed between Rio’s suit-clad body and the pool table.  _ Fuck! How do I scour that image from my brain? _

Equally quietly, Mick inquires, “So what if the husband is home?” 

Rio turns his palms up in a half-questioning, half-shrugging manner, “So what if the husband is home, Mick?” 

Mick shakes his head at Rio and winces. “Oooof!”

Ricky places three beers in front of Dietrich, Mick and Rio and uncaps them. For a moment, they sit there; three cold brown bottles with a black elephant logo on a bright yellow background. Small droplets of condensation dot the cold bottles. Then the three men each reach for a bottle and a glass. 

It would be safe to say that they bond over those short moments during which each one tilts his glass 45 degrees and pours the lager from the bottle into a tall pilsner flute. The gold liquid hits the slope of the inside of the glass, flows down, hits the bottom of the glass, swirls, slowly fills the glass. When the glass is about half-full, they each turn their glass upright again and finish the pour. They stop when they have about an inch of frothy white head reaching to the rim of the glass. Little bubbles of carbon dioxide fizz and lace slowly through the gold.

There’s a strange manly camaraderie in that simple act of pouring their beers. They don’t clink glasses. They just drink. It’s good, with the aroma of sweet malt and light floral hops and a citrusy bite to it. One might not go out and fight someone for the last bottle of this lager in a pub, but it’s good. Maybe 3.8 stars on a regular day in Detroit, 4.5 in the tropical heat of Africa. 

By the time they’ve drank half their beers, business is concluded. Dietrich will clean some of Rio’s money in two of his clubs for a 20% cut of the profit. They talk dollar amounts, settle on the numbers. While they talk, Rio’s mind is on Elizabeth and the 12.5 % of her cut that he hasn’t paid her yet. 

Yes, he knows, he is an asshole. And he feels small and guilty and he knows that no matter how much he tries to tell himself otherwise, that nagging feeling will not leave him soon.  _ I’m just trying to protect you sweetheart.  _ He’s also man enough to admit that he’s been stiffing her by giving her only 12.5%;  _ well, guess that’s the price you pay for shooting me, mama. _ So why does he still feel small and guilty about it? He hates it. 

In the mirror above the bartender’s head, he watches her walk out of the bar and to her car. He can almost feel her again; her and her lovely ass pressed beneath him.  _ Fuck! _ He almost turns to look at her. Then he stops himself; maybe he doesn’t want to do that after all. He thinks that if he does, his face might show more of his feelings for her than he means to. And from the mirror above the bartender, Rio thinks he can see the naked hunger on his own face. 

Then he thinks that that’s stupid because he knows that when he had been holding her at the pool-table, he had been  _ holding her _ much closer than was necessary to teach her. And everyone had probably been watching them.  _ What do I care?  _ He doesn’t. He really doesn’t.  _ Goddammit, mama. You do something to me; make me reckless and hungry.  _

He thinks Elizabeth might not care too much either. And if she does care when she’s away from him, he thinks he knows that when he’s holding her… she forgets to care about anything but him.  _ Christ, mama. How do I want you so bad?  _ He can’t wait to put her in the car and get on the road with her. But first, they have to make a quick stop. 

Elizabeth comes back into the bar. Her phone is in her hand and something about her face looks upset. She must have had a row with her husband.  _ Fuckin’ carman, _ Rio thinks. He wonders whether Carman knows that she is leaving with him for the day and not with her sister. 

Rio thinks back on those feelings of jealous rage that had been consuming him for the last three days and he acknowledges that maybe her dumbass husband has a reason to be angry. But he can’t quite bring himself to feel any real sympathy for Carman. Just guilt over her kids.  _ She should be home with them,  _ he thinks.  _ Goddammit, Mei. Why am I doing all this for you, darling? _

Then there’s no more time to think because he’s done talking business with Dietrich. He stands. He gestures Dietrich to relax, tells him to take his time and finish his beer. 

Rio walks over to the booth. The three ladies appear to have been in the middle of a heated, whispered conversation but they stop when he comes over and says, “We gotta go now, Elizabeth.”

He starts to walk away when Annie opens her mouth again. He stops, waits for what’s coming. Annie says, “What about us?”

Rio rolls his shoulder. He knows what she’s asking but he’s in a mood to fuck around, push her buttons a little bit. “What about you?”

And really, he thinks, it’s reasonable to think that anyone else would have been subdued by his response. But not Elizabeth’s sister. She retorts, “ _ What  _ about us?”

Rio sniggers. So maybe Annie is half-amusing. 

“Go to the mall and buy an ugly pillow. Go see the dentist. Have another drink. Call it a personal day. What do I care?” 

“Open tab?”

He snickers at her. “What do you think?” 

And he knows she’s deliberately being obtuse because she calls to Mick, “Hey, Big League, did you hear? Gangfriend just said drinks are on the house.” Then she meets Rio’s eyes and gulps, “Uh-oh.”

Rio huffs. “Fine. Two rounds on me,” he concedes.  _ Christ!  _ How did he get tangled up with these three, he wonders.  _ Oh, that’s right; they stole from me. fuckin’ thieves.  _ But he’s trying hard to stifle a smile when he thinks it. 

Behind Rio, Mick grins into his beer and thinks,  _ She’s got a mouth on her too, Rio. How did we end up with them again? Oh, that’s right; they’re just our friendly neighbourhood robbers. What the fuck!  _ He snorts and downs his beer.

  
  


“Let’s go, mama,” Rio says and turns on his heel to walk out. As he does, he meets Ruby’s eyes and she’s got an odd expression on her face. Immediately, the thought pops into his mind,  _ She knows. _ Then he looks at her again but the expression he thought he saw flicker there is long gone and he tells himself he is being fanciful. He walks out with Elizabeth beside him. 

_ We’re going in circles,  _

_ Baby I can’t take no more _

_ \-- _

_ The memories in my mind _

_ Remind me of a good time _

_ But I can’t seem to find a way to love you _

**Mood Music Credit: Trying Real Hard** by **Charlie sanderson** and **Dick Groves**

  
  


She starts into him as soon as they are out in the sunshine. She seems angry; as though she still has left-over annoyance from her conversation with her husband and is taking it out on him when she says, “I am not doing another weekend job. I have kids.” 

Rio feels a frisson of irritation. He thinks,  _ I have a kid too but you don’t hear moaning about that.  _ That thought is like a match to tinder. He feels annoyance. Then suddenly he thinks,  _ Marcus. _ And Marcus’ name on his mind is like gasoline to the flames of his anger. It burns.  _ Did you think of my kid when you shot me? I’m only taking you away for a few hours. But you, Elizabeth… you really tried to make Marcus grow up without a dad. I should put another one in your stupid husband. See how you like that then.  _ He scoffs internally.  _ You really can’t help yourself can you? You have kids! You ain’t the only one, mami.  _

So his jaw locks and the words spill out before he can stop himself, “Oh, you really, really love telling me that, huh?” 

They both pause. They’re each stuck in a memory; of her throwing keys at him and of him telling her,  _ “That family you’re always talking about? Go home to ‘em. What me and you had is done. Over… You think I need you? You ain’t nothing but a damn charity case to me… Elizabeth… Go home.” _

He wants to take the words back and kick himself when he says it. But that’s the thing about words, right? Once they’re spoken, you can’t snatch them back, make the other person unhear them, put them back into your mouth and eat them. 

He would if he could. 

Because _Christ!_ He _knows_ she has kids. It’s all he can think about lately; her kids and Marcus and the baby they’re having… and her… and him... **_Them._** Them all together at the lake-house. That’s what he wants. But he’s got a feeling like what he wants is nothing more than a little bit of wishful thinking and it’s making him feel a bit mad… a bit unhinged… off-kilter. And he hates it. He sees her hand curl into a small fist. 

Somehow her voice is more even than he expects it to be. “What time are we coming back?”

“Tomorrow.” His voice is curt. He can’t quite manage to soften it.

She sputters. “How am I supposed to do that?”

He walks right up to her; steps close to her and asks, “How are you supposed to do what, Elizabeth?”

She looks back at him. He can see words on her lips. He waits. She says nothing. 

“How are you supposed to do your job? Is that it?”

Still she stares back at him.  _ If looks could kill, well…  _ he thinks. He must be feeling particularly spiteful because he thinks,  _ Sorry, sweetheart. Hate to disappoint. It just don’t work like that. _

“It’s a job, Elizabeth. I need a courier and only you can do it. There’s no other way to do this. So… Tag, you’re it. Now we can stand here and talk it to death but in the end, this is how it’s happening. But we don’t have all day so how long do you want to argue? Two minutes?”

“What?”

“You get two minutes to say what you wanna say to me. Say absolutely anything you need to get off your chest, Elizabeth. Once your two minutes are up, get in the car and let’s go.”

She hates it. Hates how he simply expects her to comply. She thinks she  _ hates _ him a little. But like he said, they could argue about it all day but in the end, this is how it’s happening. She looks angry but says nothing. 

He sighs. “Elizabeth…” He shoves his hands deeper into his pockets. “I have a fuckton of jewels that only you can get across the border for me; if  _ I _ carry them in the car alone and they search the car at the border and find me carrying 7.5 million of sapphires across the border, how do you think that little chat will go?”

“So how do you expect me to…?”

“You’ll wear them. You’ll wear them because we’re going to a wedding. You’ll wear them as though they were mere trinkets. And you will do it effortlessly…” His voice softens. “…because only you can, darling. I need your soft touch.”

_ “I need your soft touch.” _

She thinks about that for a beat; it makes her toes want to curl.  _ My soft touch.  _ Then she nods. “I am not dressed for a wedding though.”

“We’ll take care of that in a few minutes.”

Then because he’s still feeling defensive and guilty and sulky and he hates to think about her not wanting to spend the night with him when all he wants to do is arrive in Toronto and get her to their hotel room and hit it when he’s still fully-clothed in the suit and she’s completely naked but for the jewelry she will be wearing… then do it again in the shower… then drop her on the bed and make her moan his name one more time and curl up beside her and hold his baby… 

because of all that… because he’s feeling resentful that what he wants is not what she wants, he affects nonchalance and says quite softly, 

“Again. It’s just a job. I’ll bring you back in the morning. And I won’t even touch you so you can tell  _ your husband  _ that if you like.” 

  
  


_ “… _ **_I_ ** _ won’t even touch you so you can tell  _ **_your husband_ ** _ that if you like.”  _

It’s cruel. Another little barb that he’s stuck in her. A little, spoken-out-loud reminder of her ongoing infidelity; the affair that she, the married woman with four kids, is carrying on with him, unencumbered bachelor that he is. He knows exactly how it will sound before he says it but he does it anyway; reminds her of what she is guilty, drags into the sunlight their shared misdeed and then distances himself from it as though he were somehow less culpable than she. 

_ “…tell  _ **_your husband_ ** _ that if you like.”  _

_ “… _ **_your husband_ ** _ …” _

Rio hates himself. 

Then he’s almost half-glad to stick it to her because inside he’s still feeling petulant and like he wants to smash carman again and he wants her to feel insecure and guilty like  _ he _ feels insecure and guilty. He hates himself more. 

She blanches and turns away from him, heads over to the minivan and starts getting her things from the glove compartment.

He walks up behind her. 

“Mama… I…”

Elizabeth cuts him off. She’s fairly bristling when she hurls his words back at him, “It’s just a job.” 

He feels annoyed all over again.  _ Fuckin’ hell!  _ Yet, he knows he’s the one who has been immoderate in his words; the one to blame so he bites down on his ire. “No jobs for the next three weekends.”

She stops what she’s doing and looks up at him. “Why?”

“Because it’s a job. Because you’d have won the pool-game. I don’t know, Elizabeth. Take your pick. Do you want the free weekends or not?”

She nods. Then she reaches back into the car and grabs her passport, phone charger and purse. For half a moment, he looks at her back. He wants to turn her around and hold her and tell her it’s not because it’s a job. That he would have given her the three weekends anyway.  _ Can’t tell her now though, can I? _ He glowers and walks away. 

“Wait.”

He does. Rio doesn’t know why he does it so instantaneously. Maybe it’s because that’s his damn baby mama demanding he wait. And that’s  _ her sweet, lying mouth _ giving another one of what his body understands as a command. So he stops and turns around. 

He hates how she brings him to a squeaking halt with just one word. He despises himself for how his body bows to her; aches to be ruled by her; desires nothing more than to yield to her; to surrender to her… and then, only after he has bent to her will, does  _ he _ want to bend her body for his pleasure. He thinks he’s starting to realise that he might be the king with the kingdom but she’s the one who rules  _ him.  _

He hates it. Loves it. Needs it. Wants it. Hates it some more. Hates himself. 

He raises an eyebrow at her. He doesn’t mean to speak but the nearly inaudible, “Yeah?” has already left his lips. His stupid mouth knows who it answers to. But he tells himself that he’s a fool to have any compunction about it because she’s never needed his permission to open her  _ sweet, lying mouth _ and run it at him anyway; she’s going to say what she wants to say when she wants to say it anyway. That’s her thing; sometimes she opens her sweet mouth and says things with it; says  _ things. _

And maybe this time, she says the nicest thing she could possibly have said just right now.

“I’ve got your money for you.”

He doesn’t understand. “What money?”

She motions with her head, “Hockey bag in my trunk.” The question still lingers on his face but he’s walking to the trunk before Elizabeth is quite done talking.

“Pop it,” Rio says.

_ Déjà vu,  _ the thought crosses Elizabeth’s mind and makes her shiver a little. She pops it.  _ Whatever happened to Boomer? _ She wonders when Rio is going to get another black bar on the back of his arm. Then her mind skitters away from that thought. 

He unzips the bag, zips it again and slams the trunk shut. He walks back to her. She can see it on his face; that something that comes alive and wild and untamed in his eyes right before he kisses her, holds her up against walls, pulls out and orders her to come for him then thrusts back into her. It’s there now, naked and dangerous and hungry.  _ For her. _

He stops just out of reach, sticks his hands in his pants pockets as though he’s afraid of what they might otherwise do. She stays very still. She’s not expecting what he says next, 

“Where were you last night, Elizabeth?”

_ He knows. He knows I met Fitzpatrick and it’s all a big charade to see how long I hold out.  _ Her heart starts thudding again. And she knows the sudden fear is on her face and she thinks he sees it. 

_ What’s that expression, sweetheart? _ Rio doesn’t understand. For an instant before she hid it away behind her eyes, he thinks he saw fright. But that makes no sense. And it’s gone now and on her face is a weak half-smile; it’s already dying off on her lips. So he brushes the thought aside and looks into her eyes. 

“Printing your stupid mon…” He cuts her off by kissing the ghost of the smile off her face. She kisses him back just as hungrily. Then he’s got her pushed up against the minivan and his left hand is tangled in her messy curls at the nape of her neck and the other is going under her coat and to the baby. And they’re out in the sunshine, and in the full view of passersby on the street and he doesn’t care. He thinks he’s really starting to realise how little he cares what people think when he’s got his body pressed against hers. 

“Jesus! Out here? Get a fuckin’ room, Rio.” Mick’s voice breaks them apart. 

Elizabeth feels a red wave of heat chase itself up her face and back under her coat. Rio is… well, unmoved.

“Pop it again, mama.” 

Rio opens her car door for her and she ducks inside. By the time she gets out again, she’s composed and Rio’s got Mick at the trunk. 

“Take it to Merrick. Tell him I’ll be back to see him tomorrow, aight. And that I said I expect better terms when I come back.”

Mick nods. Then Rio says to Mick, “Mick… you make sure you get the other thing I told you about done. Now more than ever.”

Mick looks behind Rio at Mrs. B. She can’t see it but there’s something half like admiration in his eyes. He nods again and mutters, “Well, I’ll be a monkey’s fuckin’ uncle.” Rio grins. 

Mick starts to shut the trunk but Rio stops him. A thought has just occurred to him. 

“How heavy is it?”

Elizabeth sputters beside him. “It’s all there. 800 Grand like you asked for.”

He gives her a quieting look. “Mick, how heavy?”

Mick hefts the bag. “Pretty heavy, Rio.” Rio nods. 

Elizabeth makes a sound beside him. Her hands are raised, palms up to the sky in an eloquent expression of what-on-earth?-I’m-not-trying-to-stiff-you-or-something. 

Rio scowls at her. “We’ll talk about it in a minute. Gimme your keys and get in the car, Elizabeth.”

Rio gets the minivan keys from Elizabeth and hands them to Mick. 

“But Annie and Ruby need the car.”

“They can take a cab. Get in the car, mama.” 

Rio is closing the door behind her when Ruby and Annie come out. He groans inwardly and tells himself to be patient. They’re surprisingly quick and when they step aside, he shuts Elizabeth’s door.  _ When did I start to do that?  _ Rio asks himself. 

He takes off his suit jacket and is walking round to his door when Ruby brushes past him and quietly says, “Congratulations.” 

Rio startles. Then he meets her eyes and he is surprised that Ruby actually tries to smile at him. She doesn’t quite pull it off but she tries. And why the fuck does that mean something to him? He nods; nods repeatedly and says, “Thank you.” Even to his own ears, his voice is odd; surprised and strangely husky. Then she’s gone back into the bar with Annie for another round. 

_ Ruby. Who would have thought that  _ **_she_ ** _ would be the first person to congratulate me? Aside from Mick who still thinks Elizabeth didn’t keep baby.  _ Rio feels… oddly happy. 

As though somehow the baby is more real; somehow just because Ruby knows… and because she congratulated him. Rio thinks,  _ So weird how that makes a difference. Goddamn Zorada didn’t even congratulate me. Just wrung me out. Typical Zorada. I should tell Mick again. Soon.  _ He puts his jacket in the back, opens the driver’s door, steps into the car and it’s just them. Him and her. Them. He glances at the time; 10.47am. He starts the car. Then he turns the engine off again. 

  
  


Elizabeth’s looking at him with half-hooded, sleepy eyes when he turns to her. “I…’ He clears his throat.  _ Why is this so hard? _ “Um… Thank you, darling.”

She nods. 

He growls the next thing he says, “Don’t carry anything that heavy again.” 

Elizabeth rolls her eyes a little but nods again. He thinks he can’t wait to get this job done and then he can show her how much he’s missed her. Then he remembers that he told her just a short while ago that he won’t touch her. He swallows his irritation and starts the car. 

“Let’s get you a dress.”

  
  


**چوچو**

The glass doors of the designer boutique on the corner of 7 th and Marshall are emblazoned with a muted logo in silver and fern green, a D intertwined with the letter F in cursive script; Dominico Ferrari. 

The sales assistant at the front spots Rio and opens a glass door to some sort of inner sanctum. A moment or two later, a short, rather plump-in-the-middle, slightly older than middle-aged man walks out to the boutique floor. 

He has a surly-looking face but that face turns out to be an involuntary deception because when he sees Rio, he beams and -Elizabeth wants to say- he  _ bustles _ over to them. And Rio endures the double kiss on his cheek then rolls his eyes at the man. 

“We’re still doing that then, Nico?”

Nico chuckles, a sound that rolls warmly over them then goes on for a few moments too long. It provokes a small smile from Elizabeth. Nico catches sight of it and chuckles the harder for it. 

“You like to complain, Christopher. But see, the bella donna likes me. Maybe I’ll charm her out from  _ under _ you.” 

He places the smallest of emphasis on the word under. It has the intended effect of evoking a mental image in Elizabeth’s mind; of herself pinned beneath Rio’s body. Elizabeth refuses to flush. 

Rio winces. “Don’t start, Nico. Keep your vulgarities to yourself.”

“Never. I think you, my dear, are wise enough to be willing to put up with a licentious, impertinent old man and his foibles.” Nico addresses himself to Elizabeth, who smiles a small smile at him but says nothing. She thinks,  _ You’re not old enough to claim old-age as your excuse for your licentiousness but I can indulge you for a short while. _

Then Nico says, “Welcome to my tiny store, Ms…”

The store is anything but tiny. It takes up two levels and out here at the front of the store, there is plenty of space not only for racks of clothing and the mannequins in dresses, suits and casual-wear all discreetly branded with the same intertwined  _ D _ and  _ F _ , but also for couches and armchairs with little tables set out for the comfort of those clients who might wish for a more extended shopping experience. The whole place screams luxury; as much as this muted and discreet elegance can be expected to scream anything. 

“Beth.” she offers a hand to Nico for a handshake but he takes it in both of his and holds onto it instead. 

“Dominico Ferrari but all gorgeous women such as yourself get to call me Nico…” Beth stifles amusement at his irreverence. They exchange a few comments about the weather. Nico swears that in his bones, he feels rain coming. Rio endures it for a minute or two then cuts in. 

“Sorry, old man. I have to cut in. We need to get on the road. Can you set her up for a wedding?”

“And are you the blushing bride, my dear?” 

Elizabeth huffs out an amused noise, “Hardly.” 

But she’s blushing as she says it. An odd expression settles on Rio’s face before he makes a visible effort to wipe it off. Then he flings himself onto a couch and pulls out his phone. He has dismissed them. Beth lets herself get dragged into the back of the shop. 

When Elizabeth returns half an hour later, Rio tells himself that letting out that growl in his chest would be unseemly. But still, if he did, he thinks he might be forgiven for it because there she is, ridiculously beautiful in a black dress that somehow manages to combine drop-shoulders with a deep cross-over V-neckline and a softly-flared skirt that falls to her knees. 

Her shoulders and the tops of her breasts are bare; those beautiful, heavy tits with the soft pale skin that make him want to bury his face in between them and rub his beard all over them like a cat on a bag of catnip. He thinks he wants nothing more than to find out for himself how they’re being held up. 

On any other day, Rio would call the ribbon cinching the dress over the top but not today. Not today when she looks like that… and not when he is wearing the same dark-blue and burgundy floral-print for his pocket-square as the ribbon she is wearing under her bosom.

Nico sounds particularly proud of himself and this little detail because he tugs at the tiny bow he has tied under Elizabeth’s bosom and says, “A little reminder of who her date is for when you leave Beth at the table to get her a drink.”

Rio wants to scoff but there it is again; that possessive feeling he gets around her sometimes. And this last week has been mad with that feeling and here is Nico allowing him an unsought-after opportunity to be just a little possessive and he can hardly resist it. And she looks… like that. 

Still, Rio resists the caveman in him. “Nico, Elizabeth’s not property for me to own, you know.”

“More’s the pity,” Nico says but it’s clearly tongue-in-cheek then he laughs that laugh again; the one that goes on for too long. It’s disarming.

“I think lighter-coloured shoes would be better,” Elizabeth says to no one in particular.

Rio nods. He concurs. “You’re losing your touch, old man,” Rio needles him. And Nico looks wounded but then a minute later, he too agrees with Elizabeth. So she picks out light-blue, peep-toe heels and they add just enough colour to be pretty while remaining understated. 

“Nico, pants and sweaters and warm things for the weather. It’s cold where we’re going.”

Elizabeth hates this. He could have told her he needs her to dress up for the job and she wouldn’t have had to suffer the indignity of having him buy her clothes. She hates it. 

Then she catches a glimpse of herself in a mirror and she tells herself that she doesn’t care. Because she looks really beautiful. And he hasn’t paid her her cut so why should she be expected to go buy a dress to wear to a job? So she accepts the soft, outsized cashmere, teal-green sweater with fitted sleeves offered her and blue stole and the black coat to keep her warm but refuses the jeans. She has jeans. The momma-jeans she was wearing when she walked into the store. 

_ Tried to keep you close to me _

_ But life got in between _

_ But now we crawl against the tide _

\--

_ Hold back the river, _

_ let me look in your eyes _

_ So I can stop for a minute _

_ And see where you hide _

_ so I can stop for a minute _

_ And be by your side _

_ Hold back the river, hold back _

\--

_ Lonely water, lonely water, won’t you let us wander _

_ Let us hold each other _

**Mood Music Credit: Hold Back The River** by **James Bay**

But Nico looks unconvinced and the following day in Toronto, when she opens the black, leather travel-bag marked DF, under her old jeans she will find a pair of new jeans with an elastic waistband. At which point she will frown but still pull them on because,  _ what the heck.  _ And they will be so soft and fit like a dream. __

And Rio will watch her dress up and pull on those jeans and that sweater and then he will bite his lip and look at his watch and regret that what he has to do will make them later than he had hoped; then he will peel off her pants and sit on the bed with her astride him facing away from him and he will hit it one more time for good measure and put his chin on her shoulder and watch her face in the mirror in front of them. 

And when she makes that twisted, little  **_o_ ** with her lovely,  _ sweet lying mouth, _ while he’s got his hands wrapped around her and the baby, he will be both ridiculously happy to be doing this and sort of sad but he will not quite be able to put his finger on why he feels sad. Maybe it’s because he’s tired of fighting her and there’s no end in sight and… 

Then he will shudder and try not to pant and come as Elizabeth moans his name and arches her back to lean the back of her head on his left shoulder; and she will dig her nails into his thighs; and Rio will wish he could just move on from all their mess but he will think to himself that he doesn’t know how to do that and after the accusations flying about the previous night, clearly she doesn’t know how to do it either. 

And he will curse himself… and the grudges he carries… and her… and her inability to forgive him for his offences against her; which he just so happens to think are a lot smaller than her shooting him three times and leaving him for dead.  _ Leaving me dying… and walking away from me, sweetheart. How the fuck am I supposed to get over that, Elizabeth?  _ Yet for some reason, he will still hold tighter to her than he ever has anyone else. 

But before then, they will have torn shreds out of each other; skewered each other with long cruel stakes; shoved hard and twisted blades in each other and they will each think they now know of what the other person deems them guilty; blames them for… and it’s an awful lot of blame to go around… blame for which there’s no forgiveness. 

Just accusations and recriminations. And tears sparkling unshed in her eyes. And rage in his chest and a hurt he’d never admit to in words… and a burning at the back of his throat. But no forgiveness. No acquittal. No pardoning. No clemency. No mercy. No absolution. No reprieve. No quarter. No armistice. No laying down of arms. No calling off of the war. No suing for peace. No truce even. 

No truce. Except that which is to be found in the tightening of her arms around his neck and in the soft, achy half-stifled hoarse noise he makes into her hair. And then it feels like spring sunshine on his skin; warm and glorious. It never lasts long; just the duration of the time their bodies are tangled together… and a couple of times, the rest of the night that they have stolen to wrap themselves in each other… before morning intrudes and with it, reality. 

And Mondays. Maybe they can call a truce on Monday. Because she has just told him that she has a visit to the obstetrician scheduled for Monday and Rio is not going to miss that; he’s not missing a moment of this pregnancy if he can help it. 

And last Monday down at the Lake-house was so good that it left something sore and half-bruised with happiness in his chest and here’s another Monday coming in which he has a chance to be happy. And now Rio has determined that maybe on Mondays he can put aside all their baggage and steal the day with her, for her. Make her happy for a little while before they get back to blaming each other and hurting each other and screwing each other over like they do on every other day. 

_ Mmmh hmm,  _ Rio will muse to himself in a small Bed and Breakfast inn just outside of Toronto as he watches her pull on her new jeans for the second time that morning. _ On Mondays we could call a ceasefire. Give ourselves time to fuckin’ rest and recover and maybe even unbreak some of what’s been broken in the other six days… before we get back to the madness of this endless fuckin’ war again.  _ Suddenly, he will feel tired again. 

Tired like he’s exhausted from fighting her. Tired like he could take off his clothes and crawl back into bed with her and just… sleep. But he won’t. Because Elizabeth will need to get back to the kids and her dummy of a husband;  _ Fuckin’ Carman _ . And he, Rio will also really need to go see Marcus and suss out what Marcus wants for his upcoming birthday.  _ Goddammit! It’s never going to fuckin’ end, is it? How the fuck do we get past this, mama? If ever we do? I don’t see how though. Christ, and I think I know maybe I love you, Elizabeth. I think I maybe love you. I’m fucked. And I’m just really tired, sweetheart. And I just wanna put my arms around you and baby and sleep the day away.  _

Then he will grab his bag and hers and walk out to the car with her in the chill air of dawn and drive hard for Detroit. And it will feel as though with every mile he comes closer to home, there’s less and less air in his lungs. He will hate it. And himself. But he’ll not slow down for a minute. 

And he will know why he feels that airless, suffocated feeling; it’s because they tore into each other and they made accusations and counter-accusations but neither said anything even remotely resembling an apology… and that’s because, there’s one thing that looms larger in both his and her mind than anything else. One thing both of them were too fuckin’ afraid to even go near. That blasted Night when he kidnapped her and she shot him. 

That’s the one thing they can’t talk about. They can never just drag it out into the open and really look at it. They can’t because, Rio will think, they’re too afraid to see it again; to play it back and talk about it because there’s no solution.  _ There’s no undoing it. There’s no getting over it, _ he will tell himself as he drives.  _ And once we open that pandora’s box, there’s no telling what comes out. _

There’s no telling what will happen. What each of them will say in response. What they will do. What they will feel. Whether they simply finally come to the inevitable and only logical conclusion that there’s no coming back from that Night.  _ For crying out loud, every time one of us says a word from that night, we find ourselves right back there again; weapons drawn, trying to hurt each other, trying to win something that’s not winnable. What the fuck are we even trying to win anyway? There’s no fuckin’ prize except pain and losing all over again.  _

_ And maybe,  _ Rio will find himself worrying as he changes lanes, _ if we look at it too long, we will finally see that this thing between us is doomed… and it will finally fuckin’ end… and I don’t think I want to lose you. Maybe some of you is better than none of you,  _ he will acknowledge. Then he will feel shame; shame for not being able to walk away; shame for being a slave to his feelings for her; shame for wanting her when it’s just so, so stupid to want her. And it will make him angry; the fact that he needs her even when he’s so afraid of what he knows she will one day do. Then self-loathing will rise in him; he will hate how familiar that feeling is becoming. __

Rio will glance at Elizabeth and she will seem cold again; why is she always cold yet when he touches her, she’s so warm?  _ And darling, in you, between your thighs, darling, it’s so hot. So how do you always look cold around me? _ So he will warm her seat and she will look grateful and he will think that he really, really doesn’t want to lose her; not now that he knows she’s having his baby. Not previously either to be honest.  _ I don’t wanna lose anymore of you, Elizabeth. I don’t wanna lose you and baby. So maybe let’s just play pretend. Let’s pretend that I’m not fucked up and half-mad with fury every day because of that Night. And afraid. Of the day you finally, finally fuckin’ get it right.  _

_ And you’ll do it for the dumbest reason too, I know. Because you’re afraid. Because of Lucy. And fuckin’ Carman. And the night I came to off you and you first told me you were pregnant. And I don’t know how to make you unafraid. And if I make you unafraid, you’ll just fuck me over some more. So yeah… let’s just keep on playing pretend, ma. Let’s pretend I’m not angry; let’s pretend you won’t come after me again; let’s pretend that if you miss again, I won’t lose my shit and find a reason to rip Carman to pieces like I’ve been wanting to do for far too long.  _

He will wonder how much she loves her husband.  _ How much, darling? Because you must… on some level you must or else you would have left him, right? Or are you afraid? Of losing your kids? Of me? _ He will nod to himself. Yes, she is. Afraid of him, Rio. Of that much, he is sure. 

He hates it. Hates how Elizabeth seems like she almost loves him when she’s got her legs round his hips and her body pressed to his. And yet, even then he knows she’s afraid of him. He will clench his hands around the wheel then try to drown out the sound of his thoughts by shifting the G-wagon to sport mode. The sound of the engine will pick up. It will be soothing but not quite soothing enough. 

His thoughts will insist on persisting.

_ Let’s pretend you are not afraid even though we both know you are. I know you are. Or else you wouldn’t have tried to kill me with a knife in your kitchen. A fuckin’ dagger, mama. That you went and bought and sharpened in your kitchen while your kids were sleeping probably. Christ! I think I might actually love you and mama, you know I love our baby and I think… nah. I  _ **_know…_ ** _ it’s just a matter of time before you try again. _

_ I guess, let’s just play pretend that everything is okay until that time, though. _

He will shift back to automatic mode and the car will go quiet and he will put out his hand and inside him, something will be glad and sad because Elizabeth will reach out her hand and put it in his and she will almost seem happy to do it. And soon thereafter, he will hate the sight of Detroit and he will put both hands back on the wheel and drop hers back onto her lap. Detroit. Home. Reality.  _ Fuck! _

But that’s all in the future. 

__

**چوچو**


	50. Tears and Recriminations: Trust Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rio discovers that Elizabeth's not the only one who has trust issues. Maybe he does too.
> 
> And something she says makes him think that he now understands why she once did something that gave him demons. Demons he's still trying to rid himself of.

**_Trust Issues_ **

**Rio:**

Her _eyes and words are so icy_

_Oh but she burns_

_Like rum on the fire_

_Calls of guilty thrown at me_

_Thrown at me so powerfully_

_Just like she throws with the arm of her brother_

_All while she stains_

_The sheets of some other_

  
  


_But I want it, It_ _'s a crime_

_That she's not around most of the time._

_And it's worth it, it's divine_

_I have this some of the time._

_The way she shows me she's mine & I'm hers _

_Open hand or closed fist would be fine_

_The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine._

**Mood Music Credit: Cherry Wine** by **Hozier**

  
  


A lot happens in their near-future. 

First they have to get to Toronto and find Mei and hand over the jewels and make sure she is safe. So around Elizabeth’s lovely neck, Rio places a heavy necklace of gold set with Mei’s twenty two sapphires each weighing between 20 to 22 carats. They are huge and have been cut to show them off to best advantage; the crown of each stone is brilliant-cut to maximize the sparkle while the pavilion is step-cut to better show off the true sapphire-blue of Mei’s near perfect jewels. 

Another eleven are inlaid in the matching bracelet on her left wrist. When Rio clasps the bracelet round her wrist and sets the necklace on her neck, Elizabeth feels breathless again. 7.5 million worth of jewelry sits on her neck and wrist and she has to pass it off as imitation pieces. She gulps and her eyes are wide in her face when she meets Rio’s eyes in the mirror.

Then they’re on the road and Rio has to drive fast all the way if they have to be there by 4pm. He would hate to get there and find that Mei already took a bullet. He’s not really up to offing Jeremy for Mei; not really up for any revenge missions right now. Plus they do have to show their faces at a wedding sometime tonight. 

He’s been driving for an hour or so and the car has been really quiet all the while. No polite chit-chat today. No easy conversation. No heartfelt confidences shared. Just an awkward and strained silence from each of them with each of their thoughts turned almost wholly inwards; almost but not entirely. 

Because they are each keeping an eye out on the other person. And Rio thinks she’s becoming increasingly brooding; as though a dark cloud hangs around her; he just doesn’t know if it’s coming from something that has happened between him and her… or if it’s leftover gloom that she brought with her from her phone-call with her husband. _Fuckin’ Carman._ Either way, it sets him on edge. Fills him with an unnamable upset. 

And Elizabeth watches him drive and something about this drive feels long and oppressive and suffocating. It reminds her of that time he had ordered her into the car and dragged her to the obstetrician because he thought she was faking the pregnancy. He had been angry then. Angry and the anger had been coming off him in rolling waves. Now she doesn’t know what he has to be upset about but something about his aura feels… wrong. Heavy. Tired. Tiring. Exhausting. 

Rio rolls his right shoulder. She sees it out of the corner of her eye and Elizabeth wonders why he does that. Does his shoulder really still ache after all this time or is it just a subconscious response to her? When he hates her a little, is that when his shoulder hurts? Well, she hasn’t done anything to justify his scowling so she doesn’t know why he’s got this present attitude.

Or rather, she has. She did something. Last night. But she’s almost certain that he doesn’t know about the hitman. So why is he so disturbingly quiet? 

She wishes she were in her car. Then she could turn on the radio and drown out the sound of her thoughts and the sound of his menacing silence. But how does one go about doing that in _this_ car? She refuses to let herself sigh that breath she has been unconsciously holding. She clears her throat and settles deeper into her seat. The leather feels cold against her arms; she hates it. She’s never hated it before. 

Elizabeth draws her new stole closer around her shoulders and kicks off her shoes. _Damnit!_ She spent the last two nights printing his money and she didn’t get more than an hour of sleep last night so now she’s going to get comfortable and sleep. She draws her feet closer, slouches a little in her seat and rests her head on the side her seat rather than the headrest. It has the unintended consequence of turning her face and knees to him. 

Rio rolls his shoulder again. He wishes the odd silence weren’t there. Wishes he could take back his accusation that between the two of them, she is the adulterer. Wishes he could take back his declaration that he won’t even touch her for her husband’s benefit; _Fuckin’ Carman._ Wishes he could put his hand on her knee which has just been bared by her drawing her legs up closer to her. 

They make it another half hour in that silence, then Elizabeth’s voice sounds small and uncertain like he hasn’t heard it in a long time. He thinks that maybe it’s because she’s tired that she’s not able to mask her feelings; not able to put on that quiet show of confidence; keep her chin up and sound as cool and indifferent as she usually does even when she’s hardly that. 

Elizabeth says, “I have a question.”

Mentally, Rio curses. _Fuck! this is not going to be good._ Not if Elizabeth feels the need to preface her question by announcing that she has one. He quashes the urge to nod. Nod repeatedly. Instead, he doesn’t react. He just keeps on driving and prepares himself for the mad accusation she’s going to make about how he answered Mei’s phone call. 

Or worse still, she’s going to say something about what he knows is his outrageous behavior this past week over her husband. _Fuckin’ Carman. Carman! I was jealous… I_ **_am_ ** _jealous and acting foolish over carman. Carman, who can’t even take care of you like he should, makes me annoyed and jealous and… Fuck!_ Still, Rio says nothing. He waits. He’s not ready for what she says. 

“There’s a time I asked to borrow thirty five thousand dollars from you.” 

Rio curses. _Fuck!_ _What the heck even? Really?_ ** _Now_** _you want to ask me about that, Elizabeth?”_ He doesn’t say a word. 

Apparently undeterred by his silence, Elizabeth continues, “You said you weren’t Merrill lynch.”

“Yes.”

Rio has this feeling that this conversation is about to go south very, very fast. And he doesn’t want to have it. Not now. Maybe not ever. So casting a careless glance her way, again putting on a show of insouciance, he shrugs. And in the hopes of discouraging her from persisting in that topic of conversation, his tone is entirely dismissive as he says, “So?”

Then he turns his eyes back to the road. And to see him, one would think that he had barely paid attention to her words, that he hadn’t seen the tightening of the skin around her eyes and mouth, that he doesn’t now notice that her right hand has clenched under her stole, that he were indifferent to her obvious but still as-yet unvoiced concerns. One would think it. One would be mistaken.

He _has_ paid attention. He _has_ seen the effect his apparently careless response has had on her. But whoever else might fall for his little attempt at deception, Elizabeth is not one of those who might be deceived. 

Because whatever else she may not know about Rio, one thing she does know, are his hands. She knows how his hands touch her, undress her, slip into her. She knows how his hands sink deep into his pockets when he’s trying to keep them off something… or her.

She knows how his hands go up to his jaw and stroke his jaw by his knuckles when he is thoughtful. She knows how his hands lock together when he has the urge to hit something. Now, she knows how his hands look making a closed bridge on the green carpet of a pool table. She knows how his hands look and feel when they wrap around her and the baby in her belly. 

But perhaps most of all, she knows how his hands on the steering wheel look. She knows tension in his fingers when she sees it. Because she has spent every car ride with him watching his long fingers hold the wheel confidently and loosely, then curl around it and tighten till the knuckles go pale when he is infuriated. Just as he had been that day he dragged her to the obstetrician’s with him. If then they had been pale then, now they’re bloodless… damn-near cadaveric. Chalk-white at the knuckles and the rest of them pasty from how tight his grip on the wheel is. 

She gets the impression that this is the driving equivalent of a strangle-hold. He shifts the car into sports mode. The speed picks up and the noise level from the side exhausts becomes noticeably louder. Elizabeth wants to grit her teeth. She has been ignored. Silenced. She hates it.

They drive in silence for a while. She knows she’s exuding rage. She can feel it coming off her in an oppressive little cloud of resentment and bitterness but try as she might to tamp it down, she can’t quite manage. Rio’s death grip on the wheel becomes yet tighter. His jaw is clenched so hard she literally can hear him grind his teeth. She thinks, _Your dentist is not going to love you for that, so I’d stop if I were you._ The set of his shoulders is angry. Then suddenly, as though someone has popped a balloon, he rolls his right shoulder once more and the tension in him simply… dissipates. He switches the car back to automatic mode. 

At which point Rio glances at her and asks, in what she thinks is the most offensive question he could possibly ask, “So is this your plan? We’re just going to sit here in a glowering silence all the way to Toronto?”

If she was stiff before, she goes absolutely rigid with barely-suppressed fury. She flings the blame back at him, “That’s up to you.” 

They both think of that night at the bar when she had worn polka dots for him and then admitted to being pregnant. He had said those words to her. Rio tries to reach the feeling of happiness he had had later that night. He can’t quite grasp it. Can’t even really remember what it felt like. Because right this minute, he is enraged and he doesn’t know precisely why.

He knows the question she is asking. He knows the question she is asking now about that day. And he knows now that things had been really bad at that time. That she had really needed the cash. But he hadn’t been… Well, that’s neither here nor there. That’s in the past. 

“Yeah? Up to me, huh?” It drips with derision, his voice. 

She scoffs at him again. 

“Forget it,” she mutters under her breath. 

Look, she gets it. It’s his money. His money to do with as he wishes and she is not and has never been entitled to any of it except what she works for. And she _had_ owed him his cut. Still, she remembers the feeling of desperation that she had had when she stomped on her pride and asked to borrow $35,000 from him. They’d all been in such an awful situation but Rio… he’d just sat there and had his vodka and flippantly said, 

“Yeah, I’m not Merrill Lynch.” 

She hasn’t realized that she has said it out loud again. She subsides into her seat, reminds herself, _It’s just a job. Do the job, Beth. Don’t overthink it. Then go home tomorrow and sleep. You’re exhausted so everything feels worse than it should. It’s just a job. Isn’t that what he said? Just do the job._

_“Yeah, I’m not Merrill Lynch.”_

“Well, I’m not,” Rio’s angry voice cuts into her thoughts.

She grits her teeth. She feels the distinct urge to hit him. She thinks she didn’t sign up for this. Not to have an annoying not-conversation because he has so much disdain for her that he can’t be bothered to respond to her with anything resembling politeness. But then again, he has always made it clear that he has never felt he owes her any explanations. _Get over it. It doesn’t matter why he didn’t think he should help you then._

_It’s his money; that’s the explanation you’re looking for, Beth. Remember when you told Dean that it’s not you he loves, Beth? Remember that day after he killed Lucy and he only spared you because you could make his money? That’s what you need to remember. That was your moment of clarity, right there. He might want you. Might love the baby in you. Might like you even. But at the end of the day, he doesn’t love you. And you’re not with Rio, remember? No matter how much sex you have with him. You’re not with him. You’re with Dean. And it’s just a job._

_So just shut up and wear the damn jewels and go help her whoever she is and forget about the stuff from the past. And by the way, you’re not helping her; that’s what_ **_he’s_ ** _doing. You, Beth are just doing a job,_ she tells herself.

Then she thinks that Rio didn’t sign up for this either. He didn’t sign up for a baby mama who can’t separate the job from the personal stuff between them. He wants a job done so she will do the job but that doesn’t mean she has to say another word to him. She shrinks into her chair. The silence becomes yet heavier. _But what does it mean that he would do this for her? Whoever she is; the woman he so unthinkingly calls_ **_darling_ ** _in that voice? For her? And not for me?_

Fifteen minutes later, Rio growls, “Spit it out, Elizabeth.”

And she had determined to dispense with that conversation but at his words and angry tone, she rips right into him with, “You heard me the first time… and the second.” 

_“You heard me the first time…”_

_Christ! Holy fuck!_ He’s really starting to hate those words; how has she taken this thing that he does and made it more hers than it’s ever been his? And how does she manage to rile him up more than he ever seemed to get a rise out of her with those words; _“You heard me the first time.”_ Does she even know she’s doing it? Is it deliberate? Or does it just happen unconsciously? And why does the thought of her picking up his habits give him some twisted little thrill even as this particular habit makes him irritated enough to hit something? And why is it that nobody else can get him this angry?

Bcause now… now… he wants to take his hands off the wheel and step right out the car without necessarily taking the trouble of stopping it first; he wants to step out of the car and pace and lock his hands on the top of his head because he thinks he has never met anyone more infuriating than her. 

“Okay, I’m not Merrill Lynch. So?”

Elizabeth laughs a scornful little laugh. “So… yet here we are, Mr-I’m-Not-Merrill-Lynch. On our way to Toronto. Doing this. Delivering these. For some reason. These real gems that I have to wear across the border for you because you so badly need them to make it there. And the money you needed printed.”

“Which you had refused to print and you didn’t hear me harping on that.”

“Excuse me? Am I mistaken in thinking I just gave you a hockey bag full of your funny-money?”

Rio takes one hand off the wheel. He rolls his shoulder hard. As though he has a deep-seated soreness that he can’t reach. Now she is sure that that action is a tic, a tell, that he can’t hide when he is angry at her. “Elizabeth…”

“I still haven’t asked my question,” she cuts him off. Rio resumes his stranglehold on the wheel. 

“You don’t have to. I get it.”

“Do you? Because you put a gun to my head for this.” Elizabeth gestures to the necklace around her neck. Holds out her wrist to him. 

Even to the untrained eye, there’s something arresting about those jewels sparkling on her wrist. They catch the light, hold it, throw it back; glow with a beauty she doubts would be present in a fake. She wishes she could tell him; how the weight of that necklace around her neck has been increasing the closer they get to Canada. How the bracelet on her wrist now feels like a shackle. She hates it. _Do the job, Beth. Just do the job and go home._

The sapphires are a few shades too dark but even so, they make Rio think of her eyes. And if she weren’t angry at him, if the atmosphere in the car weren’t so stifling, he would have obeyed that temptation to reach out and catch her wrist; hold it in his hand; run his hand over those jewels and the pale skin beneath them.

He drives. Keeps his hands on the wheel. 

A while later, when he thinks the silence will choke him, he says, “She is good for it.”

“Oh-kay.” it sounds snide. Tired. As though she really doesn’t care. 

“What do you want me to say, Elizabeth? What do you want me to say so you can be happy? And failing that, what do you want me to say so that you can just do the job without us getting into a row about it? ”

She closes her eyes. His words… they burn. They sting. _What do I want him to say so I can be happy or do my job?_ Elizabeth thinks about that. And she wants to sob but since the night she shot him, everything between them has been difficult… everything except the sex. That’s been mind-blowingly good. But now she wishes she could stand in front of him under a STOP sign in the dark and cry and not be despised by him but she can’t. So she swallows her tears and comes to the realization that nothing will make her happy. 

Nothing he says will make her happy because it’s his money and he had had every right to refuse it her. She remembers the time she had come home to find that he had taken back both the funny money and the one they had cleaned including their cut and she had called him out on it, “Why did you take my money?” 

He had shaken his head, “Mmmm mmm. My money. Mine… We’re shutting things down for a while.”

“But you took all of it… Part of that was our cut. We worked our asses off for that money,” she had protested. 

“What do you want me to say? It’s a company-wide shutdown. And if I got closing costs, everybody feels the pain.” 

  
  


_“Mmmm mmm. My money. Mine… What do you want me to say?”_

_“…What do you want me to say?”_

She gets that neither of them can go back in time and undo any of what they have done but she just would like to know why. _Why we are here, riding to the rescue of a woman you called darling and put a gun to my head for while I’m pregnant with your baby and yet when I asked to borrow 35 Grand from you, you said,_

“I get it. You are not Merrill Lynch,” she repeats and nods her head. Nods repeatedly. Her voice is arctic; a blizzard in a cold and barren wasteland. 

Rio reiterates, “Elizabeth… It’s just a job.” 

But it doesn’t feel like just a job for her because it’s certainly not just a job for him either. And now she doesn’t know why she printed that money for him except that she did it for him because… _Because what, Beth? Because of the sex; the sex in the kitchen against the wall. And all the rest of it because sometimes it feels like I love you, Rio. And maybe the guilt. The guilt about Fitzpatrick._ She swallows hard. _Fitzpatrick…_

She tries to talk herself into some sort of sanity. And she succeeds… mostly. At least the tears are gone from her eyes. She thinks, _It’s just that… when I asked to borrow that cash, Rio, we were still good. So… why didn’t I deserve your help then? And she does? Whoever she is? Just… tell me why? All I want is an explanation._ It is clear that none will be forthcoming though. So she pulls out her phone and starts to play a game. 

Rio shoots her a quick look; _What is it with you people and playing Sudoku?_ He rubs his jaw and drives faster. _Christ! Maybe this was a mistake; maybe asking Elizabeth to wear the sapphires was a damn mistake. Maybe involving you in this Mei thing was a mistake, ma. Maybe going to help Mei at all is a mistake._

 _Maybe… Aaaaaaargh! Fuck it! It’s too late now. Can’t change any of it now. Wouldn’t really have changed any of it, anyway. I mean, which part would I have changed?_ The answer is loud in his head. _Could have not put the gun to Elizabeth’s head to start with._ He hates himself. He floors it; really puts the pedal to the metal and stays just within the speed limit and holds it there for the next half hour.

He gives her a look out of the corner of his eye. But though her phone is in her hand, her fingers are barely moving and he thinks she’s half asleep. So he turns the heat on her seat on and against her best intentions, she does what Rio knows she will; she makes a soft sound of sleepiness and snuggles deeper into the seat and in three minutes, she’s fast asleep. Her phone dangles precariously from her hand so he snags it from her fingers and drops it in the center console. 

“Elizabeth…” When Rio murmurs her name, she doesn’t respond. Doesn’t even stir. She’s really out cold.

**Brio:** _Did you ever want it, Did you want it bad_

_Did you ever fight it, All of the pain_

_So much pride, Running through my veins_

_All my life, I’ve been playing games_

_I’ve been losing you, One day at a time_

_Bleeding, I’m bleeding_

_My cold little heart_

_Oh I, I can’t stand myself_

_In my heart, in this cold heart_

_I believe if I just try_

_You believe in you and I_

_Maybe this time, I can be strong_

_But since I know who I am_

_I’m probably wrong_

**Mood Music Credit: Cold Little Heart** by **Michael Kiwanuka**

Rio reaches for her wrist and holds it in his hand for a long while, running a thumb lightly over it, rubbing little circles into it with the pad of his thumb. _Fuck! Is there anything you will ever forget or let go, sweetheart? Is there?_ He thinks not. _How do you think I feel, mama? You fuckin’ put three slugs in me… and then a knife. And then you wanna ask me about 35G?_ So why does he feel guilty? 

It’s the bracelet around Elizabeth’s wrist. And this job that’s not really a job. This thing that he’s doing for Mei that he didn’t do for Elizabeth when he had a chance to. And now he thinks he sees a connection where he had never seen one before. Now he thinks that maybe something about that refusal to help her made her do what she did a couple of days later. _That’s why you kicked me out of your bed, isn’t it? Because you realized yet again, that you couldn’t count on me? That you couldn’t trust me to have your back? Fuck!_

There’s just one problem; he can’t coherently explain to himself why he didn’t help her; He’s never tried to explain it to himself. He had never thought he would ever have to explain, “Yeah, I’m not Merrill Lynch.” So he can’t explain it to her. _I shouldn’t have to explain it, goddammit,_ he tells himself. So why does he still think he does. Why does he feel as though he owes her an explanation of _some_ sort. 

He rubs his thumb over her fingers. Elizabeth sighs. Rio finds himself in another memory; He’s thinking of the time Elizabeth had handed him 200Gs for him to make her body-in-a-dumpster-or-landfill problem go away. He’s thinking of how he’d held her hand under the table, let her fingers slip through his… how he’d wanted to hold onto that small hand and not let go. But then she tugged it away and straightened and… 

He should probably put his hand back on the wheel, he thinks, but… 

Elizabeth’s sister and friend had been anxious and insistent on knowing what he would do to solve their problem. So he had told them that he would “take care of it” and declined to give further details. He had stood up to leave. Her sister and friend were unsettled. It didn’t bother him. He only cared about the opinion of one person at that table.

With the bag of money in his hand, he had looked down at Elizabeth, met her eyes and asked,

“You trust me?”

And something had been wicked about her face, her eyes, her mouth… wicked and facetious; as though she _had_ to be glib; like she didn’t dare say in company, or perhaps even to him, what she really meant to say. So she said, “God, no.”

And he saw the lie for what it was. And he knew that she did; trust him. And he was fuckin’ happy about it. And he smiled at her. And he called out the lie for what it was. And just like her, he was facetious. Glib. Flippant. As though it didn’t matter. 

“That’s good,” he said smiling down at her. _That’s good, darling. Tell us both that little lie,_ he’d thought then.

Then he had walked out. And taken care of her little body-in-the-landfill situation. Taken care of it then used it against her when she tried to hit it and quit him. _When you kicked me out of your bed, was it because you figured you’d never be able to count on me? Because I refused to help you? Really? Is that it?_

He thinks of that time he’d been sitting on her picnic table waiting for her; elbows on his knees, gun dangling in his hand between his knees. He had been furious that she’d taken his pharmacy.

 _“I trusted you.”_ she’d yelled at him. And there it was. Finally, the truth between them. The truth coming out of her mouth. And he’d been furious so when he’d heard that note of betrayal in her voice, he had flung it back in her face. 

_“That’s your fault.”_ He bites his lip and tries to ignore that ache in his right shoulder.

_“That’s your fault… and I don’t owe you anything,”_ he might as well have said. Because isn’t that the thing he’d been trying to show her over and over again; _“I don’t owe you anything. I don’t owe you a duty of care. It’s not my problem if you trust me or not. And if you’re stupid enough to and I screw you over, then “…that’s your fault.” It’s just business for me.”_ It comes as no surprise to find himself loathing himself a little. He traces her skin along the edge of the bracelet. 

Why had she been so mad though? _Because I screwed you over on the pharmacy?_ _Nah! Doesn’t feel right; doesn’t quite track._ Because he’d screwed her over before; taken her money, told her he had kept the body. And she might have been upset before but not losing-her-mind upset. So why was she so livid over the pills? Because the only times he’s ever seen her that mad was the night he called her work… and the night he grabbed her from outside her house and she shot him. 

_So why were you so mad about the pills, Elizabeth? Why were you acting all betrayed and angry and hurt? Come to think of it, that was the first time you ever really lost it and screwed me over. So what was it about those pills that was the last straw? Is it because I was using your dumbass husband’s lot without telling you? Fuckin’ Carman._ Then Rio thinks; _Spa-_ ** _king._** He scoffs. _Goddamn you, Elizabeth._

_Was it because of Carman’s lot?_ Then Rio has a memory he would rather not have; _you put it all on me so it’s never on you!_ Elizabeth had screamed at him. With his golden gun in her hand and her tears running down her face and fury and betrayal in her voice, she had yelled at him and blamed him for sticking her with all the consequences of his actions. 

He swallows hard against the lump in his throat. Yes. Yes, he knows. He’d made it so if things went bad, she’d have been left holding the bag. He feels… He doesn’t know what he feels and maybe he doesn’t want to either. Maybe he doesn’t want to think about this anymore. 

So he thinks about Mei instead and what he has to do for her and he hopes it’s not some sort of twisted little set-up. But inevitably his mind drifts back to Elizabeth; Elizabeth who is asleep beside him, knackered out from staying up all night printing his damn money; Elizabeth who is pregnant with his baby and who he thinks he might maybe love after all; Elizabeth who is angry… and he thinks, jealous… and sounding betrayed somehow… and all because of this Mei thing. 

Elizabeth who is now asking a valid question that he thinks he dare not answer… and maybe there is no valid answer to it… maybe there is no valid answer to it without admitting to things he would rather not… things like maybe he had just decided he didn’t want to get involved because he had wanted her and she had been indifferent to him… and why should he have put himself out for her when she had still just been treating him as a side-piece… when he had been playing second string to her dumbass husband; to fuckin’ carman? 

He looks at Elizabeth’s face; she looks exhausted. Exhausted because she somehow managed to print four times his usual load of counterfeit… for Mei whom she doesn’t know… whom she is upset about… for Mei. Rio scoffs at himself. _No. Not for Mei. For me._ He draws a long breath. _For me._ He doesn’t want to think about that either.

He tears his mind from that thought and back to the pharmacy debacle. _Why were you so furious about the pills, Elizabeth? Why were you acting all betrayed and angry and hurt?_

_“I trusted you.”_

_You trusted me and… What, ma? Was it because I had just hit it?_

He looks at her sleeping face. _Yep!_ Yes, that feels right. Feels closer to the truth at least. _So you were mad because you let me hit it and I still pulled one over on you?_ He doesn’t know how that makes him feel either. He rubs a thumb over the sapphires. _Fuckin’ hell. And then things went downhill all the way from there, huh? Did you… care, mama? Did you actually give a damn? Because maybe I think you’d been indifferent to me after our little bathroom break._

_“I trusted you.”_

Rio huffs an annoyed breath. _Well, so did I, mama. So did I. I trusted you. Trusted that I wasn’t just a fuckin’ sidepiece but I was. I think I thought you wanted me for your actual fuckin’ boyfriend. Christ! So fuckin’ stupid, Rio. What a mess we made, darling. Because that’s how you treated me, isn’t it? Like I was your fuckin’ boyfriend; giving me drama and expecting me to put up with it. Like when you were throwing fuckin’ keys at my face. Or when you were trying to get me put away for five to fifteen. Telling me little lies about your rotten eggs and knowing that I knew that they were lies and still expecting me to let it go._

Rio grins at the memory of Elizabeth giving him his gun back and pretending she’d googled how to kill someone and done it but then still returning a full clip to him. _Goddammit, Elizabeth._

_Then you’d come crying to me about the things that worried you; telling me you were afraid because of me… you were tired; you couldn’t sleep; hadn’t slept for months… what was I supposed to do with that, sweetheart? How was I supposed to not get caught up in you and your crying, blue eyes then? You knew what that made me want to do. So I might have taught you to use a gun but we both know how much more I wanted to do with you; for you; protect you; hold you through the night so you could sleep._

_But you weren’t mine; you wouldn’t let yourself be. Even when you felt it; even when you knew you should have been mine._

_Even when you were day-drinking with me and then coming into my bar; my fuckin’ bar, mama…. looking for me because you needed me to fix how you were feeling about your stupid husband. And I did. I did, sweetheart. I did all this stuff with you and for you that I wouldn’t have done for anyone else… but I was still just a side-piece to you._

_And I know, I get it. How fuckin’ stupid was I to think I was more._ He wants to laugh at himself. He doesn’t. He bites his lip instead. _I know, okay. Because I had to smash a fuckin’ car to get you to even see how bad, how terribly, terribly bad I wanted you. And because I was so angry, so fuckin’ jealous that you were choosing your goddamn husband… choosing your goddamn husband and giving him my damn money and treating me like…_ He rolls his shoulder. 

_And I get it, even now. No one leaves their husband for their boyfriend. Christ! I’m fucked. Because I’m right back there, aren’t I? Wanting you to choose me. Waiting for you to decide I’m good enough for you. But you won’t. I don’t think you will, anyway. Not even if your dummy of a husband has messed up everything good for you. You won’t. Not even if you cry and beg for me inside you. Not even if my baby is in you right now. I don’t think I wholly believe you’ll choose me. Not even if I choose you a thousand times over._

_And the stakes are so much higher this time, ma. Because… I think maybe I love you. And I’m so happy you’re having our baby. And I’ve done things for you that I wouldn’t even contemplate doing for fuckin’ anyone else. But then again: that’s not on you, darling. That’s on me. That’s my own damn fault._

_“I trusted you.”_

_“That’s your fault.”_

Those words taste acrid on his mind. Why does he regret all those times he didn’t live up to her trust? Why does he wish she trusted him now? Just as gently as he had picked her wrist, he drops it back into her lap and puts both hands back on the wheel. 

_Why do I wish you trusted me, Elizabeth?_

Why does he feel so fuckin’ guilty?

He blames the sapphires.

And the Mei situation.

_Yeah, let’s do that;_

_Let’s blame this current mess._

That’s easier than facing the past. 

_I don’t want to be your side-piece anymore._

_I don’t want you to hide our baby anymore._

_I don’t want to lose any more of you, darling._

_I just want you to really be mine._

_You’re fuckin’ mine anyway._

_Just choose_ **_me_ ** _, mama._

_Choose me already._

_Love me already._

**_Trust me._ **

They’ll be at the border in fifteen minutes. He calls her name softly, “Elizabeth…” She stirs. He does it again. She turns sleepy eyes on him then blushes. He gives her a small smile. 

“Time to get your game face on, darling,” Rio says and hands her a wedding invitation from the glove compartment. 


	51. Tears and Recriminations: An Unwitting Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the heat of things, Rio lets slip something important. He's not quite ready to admit to the truth of his words.
> 
> But Elizabeth has heard them...  
> Does she believe his unwitting confession?

**_An Unwitting Confession_ **

_Oh Lord have mercy I'm begging you, please_

_I'm feeling drained, I need love_

_You charge me up like electricity_

_Jumpstart my heart with your love_

_I couldn't leave even if I wanted to_

_'Cause something keeps pulling me back to you_

_From the very first time we loved_

_From the very first time we touched_

_Oh, you gotta give me some_

_Though you can give it all_

_But it's never enough no_

**Mood Music Credit: Powerful** by **Major Lazer** and **Ellie Goulding**

He doesn’t mean to do it. 

It just sort of happens. 

And then he realizes he might have the same condition that he had once accused Elizabeth of; maybe he’s all start and no follow-through. 

That gives him pause for thought.

**چوچو**

It is when she first sees the invitations that Elizabeth first gets an inkling of the seriousness with which Rio set up their cover story. Because these invitations are professionally done. Professionally done in the sense that they must be real invitations to a real wedding. He nods and looks a little surprised to hear her ask for confirmation of this fact. 

“Wait! We’re going to an actual, real wedding?”

He glances sharply at her. “What did you think, ma? You know better than to leave such an obvious loose end to your alibi.”

“Jennifer Tremblay and Roy Overton,” Beth reads out loud. “Who are they?”

“Jenny and Roy. Jenny is your childhood friend.” Rio responds.

“They’re my friends not yours? You’re my plus-one?” 

He nods at her. “And they would swear to it in front of a judge. Jenny’s got an older sister called Lauren. She's the one who sent you the invitation.”

“But they live in Canada.”

“Yeah… they moved away from Detroit eleven years ago.”

She makes a face. “But did they?”

“Every word of that backstory is true. They used to play in the park next to Gracepark Elementary.” 

“That’s right next to where we lived when I was a kid.” 

Rio makes a sound, “Is that right?” and something about it sounds a bit too knowing. Almost as though he knew where she had grown up. But that’s impossible, right? 

“Okay… so that’s how I _know_ them. How do _you?”_

“I don’t. I’m your date; being roped into another wedding he’d rather not attend but has to because his pregnant fiancée has made demands.”

Elizabeth snorts and rolls her eyes, “You would be so lucky. But seriously… how do you know them?”

“Remember shooting someone in the foot, sweetheart?” 

She startles. “Big Mike?”

“Mmmmh hmm. Guess you finally get to tell him you’re sorry.”

“So you’re taking me to Big Mike? He’s not… going to be pleased to see me. Even though I’m not the one who shot him.”

“Great… there’s your defence.” Rio laughs. Rio is amused because although Big mike knows that Rio is bringing a date to the wedding, he doesn’t know _who_ the date is. _I’m going to enjoy watching that,_ Rio thinks to himself. 

“Still… I can’t imagine he’ll be too pleased to see me.” Elizabeth gnaws her lip. 

“Relax, sweetheart. He’s lucky he only took one in the foot after trying to stiff me that day… and he knows it.” Rio continues, “Still, I won’t lie and say I’m not looking forward to seeing the fireworks.” 

Elizabeth keeps gnawing on her lip. Then she decides that this whole trip is more than just a bit surreal because Rio slips two fingers inside his waistcoat pocket and says, “Gimme your hand, Elizabeth.”

“Why?”

He doesn’t ask again; just takes her hand and drops it on his thigh. Instinctively, her fingers start to curl around his muscled leanness. She stops herself but not before her fingertips have grazed the inside of his thigh. A small sound escapes him; a very short, very soft, sharply inhaled breath. She gulps and wants to simultaneously snatch her hand away and trail it up his inseam. Her eyes meet his and he blinks at her, long and slow like he does sometimes and she wants… 

Then her heart starts thudding because with one hand still on the wheel, Rio is slipping a ring onto her ring finger. The ring is beautiful; an oval 5 carat brilliant –cut sapphire set in warm yellow-gold with four white diamonds accenting the blue stone. She blinks. For a long moment, Rio holds her hand in his before he drops it back onto his thigh. 

The ring winks at her. Elizabeth swallows hard. Rio’s eyes are on her face and she thinks too much of what she feels must be written there because his eyes hood over and his chin tilts up slightly. She feels… 

She feels. 

She hates herself. 

She hates how badly she wants to throw herself at him right now. 

She hates how badly she wants to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him and be kissed by him and…

She feels. 

Then she feels stupid because… well, this is only pretend. _We’re just playing pretend._ But still, her heart refuses to be quiet and she’s thinking she thinks she wants this to be just a little bit real… _We’re just playing pretend, Beth._

Then Rio’s voice cuts into her thoughts and brings her sharply back to earth. “Aight, then. We’ve been engaged three months. Time to put on that show, darling. Make it Oscar-worthy.”

And just like that, reality checks in again. Rio rolls down the window and hands their passports to the border agent. 

\--

“Mr. delAguila,” the agent reads his name out loud then looks down at Rio. He seems to fixate on Rio’s neck tattoo. 

“Evening…” 

“What takes you to Canada this evening?”

“Just heading to a wedding.” The expression on his face is one that Elizabeth has never seen before. Rio looks almost… humble. _Oh, he really wasn’t kidding about putting on a good show,_ Elizabeth thinks. 

Rio smiles easily at the agent and continues, “Running a bit late too because somebody…” He gives Elizabeth a side-long glance, “… can’t get ready in less than two hours.”

“And Ms. Boland is…”

“Friend of the bride... My baby-mama.” 

Elizabeth chimes in with, “Really, Christopher? Baby mama? Is that what you tell people I am?” 

She leans closer to Rio and addresses herself to the agent, “Fiancée, officer. Even if sometimes he wants to act as though I’m just a random woman he knocked up.” She runs her hand over Rio’s thigh. The agent looks in at her and sees her hand on Rio’s thigh; sees the ring sparkling on her finger. Elizabeth smiles up at the agent who meets her eyes and unconsciously licks his lips.

“Mind if we search the car, sir?”

Rio shakes his head, “Not at all.” 

Rio pulls over in the space designated for random searches. It’s testament to the enduring prejudices against tattooed men of colour that the officers bring out the dogs to search the car for contraband. Rio rolls his eyes behind the agent’s back and pulls Elizabeth into his side; it’s odd, how people can just assume the worst about a person then proceed to look only for something in confirmation of their prejudices. It’s obvious that the agents have immediately assumed he would be smuggling drugs of some sort. He wants to scoff.

Elizabeth presses herself closer into his side. She seems irritated.

“So they just assume that we must be smuggling something?” Somehow the notion of him being profiled fills her with an unexpected rage. Yes, she knows; he ticks a couple of boxes on the **misplaced** -stereotypes-and-prejudices-about-drug-dealers list.

Neck tattoo; ☑️

Non-caucasian; ☑️

Young and yet obviously well-monied; ☑️

_“So they just assume that we must be smuggling something?”_

“Which in this case, is exactly what we need, mama. So relax and don’t make a fuss about it.”

She tries to calm down. 

“While they’re searching the car for drugs…” he murmurs into her ear, rests his chin on her shoulder and wraps his arms around her and the baby, “…they are not worried about the stones.”

Rio runs his hand over her belly and is pleased to feel a shiver course through her. _Good._ She might be upset at him but her body is betraying her. He loves it. She looks up at him and something is hungry in her eyes. Heat stirs low in his belly. He remembers, _“…_ **_I_ ** _won’t even touch you so you can tell_ **_your husband_ ** _that if you like.”_

He says her name, low against her neck, “Elizabeth….” She shivers again. 

_“…_ **_I_ ** _won’t even touch you…”_ he had told her earlier.

Now though, he thinks that was a daft thing to say and he has no intention of standing by his word; _Fuck that. I’m going to hit it, mama, if you’ll let me. And I’ll make damn sure you’ll wake up wanting to beg and plead for more._

He grins. “Might have left a couple of things there to make them look harder in the car.” 

Elizabeth looks at him, startled. “What things, Rio? What did you do?” 

“Relax, mama.”

“I hate it when you tell me to relax. You say something like that then you tell me to relax. What did you leave in the car, Rio?” 

He grins then looks past her, “Mmmh. Incoming.”

“Sir…” Rio looks at the agent stalking his way.

“Officer…”

“What’s in this box?” the agent asks and holds out the box in his hand. 

“Treats for baby mama.”

“I’m going to open it.”

‘Sure, knock yourself out.” the agent places the box on the hood of the car and opens it. 

Inside there’s an assortment of nuts and bite sized chocolates. 

“What is this?” The agent pulls out several baggies of something orange. 

“Exactly what it says on the side, officer; spiced, dry mango.” Rio says it easily, just a guy making easy conversation with a border agent; just as though he weren’t in the process of smuggling 7.5 million dollars across the border. 

“My fiancée gets mad cravings in the night… and I don’t know if you have a baby yet, officer… but I’m not about to tell her she can’t have her something sweet and spicy at 2am. She’d have my head.” The officer grins. 

Eliabeth splutters and pulls herself out of his arms, “Are you saying you don’t enjoy doing it? taking care of me and your baby?”

“Hey! Come on now, ma!’ he pulls her back to him and says next to her ear, but loudly enough for the agent to hear, “Don’t start, sweetheart. You know I love it, yeah? You know I love it that my baby is making you want things, darling. So don’t pout, ma.”

Elizabeth huffs an unconvinced noise. Then Rio says, “See what I gotta deal with?”

“Christopher Arroyo delAguila, I’m not demanding.” She sounds annoyed. 

“No, you’re not demanding. It’s not you, darling. It’s the baby, yeah? I know that.” Again, Rio makes contact with the agent’s eyes. The see-what-i-go-through expression is back on his face. 

The agent coughs to cover a laugh. He thinks he’s got Elizabeth’s number; a gorgeous woman who has obviously been spoilt by her too-indulgent fiancé. Yes, he can see her appeal because _holy moly, her tits are something else._ But even so, he’s sure he wouldn’t want to spend the rest of his life attached to her. Yes, she is; she is far too demanding for his taste. Yet, to each their own. _More power to you, delAguila if you can keep her happy because the day you don’t, you are fucked!_

“Well, I have to open it and check anyway,” the agent says shaking the small baggie of fruit.

“Sure.” 

The officer hands back the opened baggie and Elizabeth snags it from him. She makes a small noise of pleasure when she pops some of the mango into her mouth. 

Rio plasters himself to her, “See what a good fiancé, I am, darling? I can be so good, mama. Now tell me what I get for that happy sound you’re making, sweetheart.” It’s just loud enough for the agent to hear. Clearly uncomfortable with the PDA, the agent coughs again. 

“I’m afraid we have to search you.”

“Okay, sure.”

Rio endures the frisking with a small grin on his face. Then he says what is clearly designed to discomfit the agent patting him down,

“Mmmmh, mama. Enjoying yourself? Watching me be felt up by hands that are not yours? Jealous, sweetheart or do you love it?”

His words startle the officer who instinctively steps back and looks over at Elizabeth. 

She is annoyed for Rio’s sake that they are being treated to this enhanced “random” search. She knows what he’s doing; getting his own back at the uber-masculine officer patting him down and she realizes now, that she’s the perfect foil for his little game. So she plays it up; the role of possessive girlfriend watching her man be expertly felt up. She puts her hand on her belly, parts her lips slightly and with eyes half-wide in her face, watches the officer run his hands up Rio’s inseam. If the agents are willing to make them uncomfortable, then she’s more than glad to help Rio return the favour. 

After that, the agent can’t get his hands off Rio fast enough. He steps back from Rio, obviously taken aback, having never experienced this before; a couple who when faced with the humiliating experience that being frisked in public is, somehow turn it into some kinky sort of foreplay. 

“All done, Mr. delAguila.”

“All good, Officer?” Rio grins at the agent who steps farther away from Rio than he has to. Rio says to Elizabeth, “Payback is coming, darling. Your turn; I’m going to stand here and enjoy watching someone else run their hands _all over_ you… and you know how much I like that.” He waggles his eyebrows at her. 

Rio leans on the vehicle and watches the lady cop pat Eliabeth down. Once she takes off her coat and stole, with shoulders bare and her cleavage so nicely displayed in the black dress, the search is nothing more than a hand on her back and up the inside of her thighs over her dress. Elizabeth tries to take it with grace but she can’t quite manage the same demeanour as Rio. She looks at Rio and meets his eyes. His face is soft; he’s not pretending that he’s enjoying it. He feels bitter; not for himself but for her. _This is what you have to put up with, mama, if you choose me,_ he thinks to himself. He smiles encouragingly at her. Eliabeth wants to cry; she feels enraged and humiliated and invaded.

Then the brief search is over and Rio grabs her hand and helps her into the car and shuts the door on her. She looks shaken. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he whispers to her. He doesn’t wait to see if she nods. He’s walking round to his door when the female agent says, “Are those real?” referring to the jewels sparkling on Elizabeth’s neck. 

Rio’s heart squeezes then starts to pound. His steps falter and he has to struggle to keep a neutral expression. _You’ve got this, darling,_ he thinks at Elizabeth. _Come on, sweetheart._ He grabs the box of snacks off the hood and opens his door.

Then he wants to sigh in relief because Elizabeth rallies. Rallies and laughs. Laughs as though the idea that the stones are real is the most ridiculous notion in the world. He steps in and shuts the door behind him.

“If these were real…” she says conspiratorially to the agent, “… well, I’d know one of two things; I’m either the side-piece or I need to go looking for his mistress, amiright?” Then she turns to Rio and says, “Honey, is there anyone else out there who you’re calling **_darling?_ **” 

Rio chokes. _Goddamn Elizabeth._ Trust her to use a border search to litigate their unresolved fight. 

“What are you even on about, ma?” 

She repeats herself. Speaks down to him like he sometimes does to her, “You heard me the first time, Christopher. The agent would like to know if these are real. And I… I would like to know whether you’re calling someone else sweetheart or _darling_ behind my back.” 

“Elizabeth… don’t start this here. On our way to a wedding is here you want to start accusing me of cheating on you? Really, ma?”

“Answer the question, Christopher.” Her voice is accusatory.

Rio sighs exasperation and puts both hands on the wheel, then he says in a pained, I-can’t-deal-with-this-today voice, “When? When would I have the time to cheat on you? Between work, and doctor’s visits and being woken up in the middle of the night to go buy whatever ridiculous thing you happen to be craving at three in the night and putting baby furniture together and all the sex your hormones are making you want, when? Tell me when I would have the time or the energy to get it on with someone else.”

“Oh, so now the sex is too much for you? I’m tiring you?”

Rio presses the heel of his hand into his eyes and drags his hand down his face saying, “I can’t win, can I?”

He laughs a small, bitter sound then looks at the agent on his side of the car, “Officer, they’re not real. I sure as heck couldn’t afford them if they were; what with wallpapering the baby’s room which is only driving down the property value of the house… and buying rocking chairs and bookshelves for a baby who’s not half-way to being born…” He sounds exhausted, “No. No they are not real. And Elizabeth would know that, if this pregnancy wasn’t making her –and me- a little crazy.”

The female agent is standing there, open-mouthed watching the little spat happen and now she thinks she forgot how she ended up being the instigator of accusations of infidelity. And maybe she thinks she doesn’t want to spend another minute near these two. 

Then Rio reaches out his hand, squeezes her hand and brings their little skit to a roaring finale, “Darling, I love you and baby but I can’t wait for this baby to be born because you are driving me insane, okay? And I’m sorry but I couldn’t possibly afford the real deal so you can go ahead and be mad about that if you like… but you have got to know that I am **_not_ ** cheating on you.”

Elizabeth fires back with, “What you’re saying is you gave me cheap jewelry. That’s what I deserve? Cheap jewelry when I am pregnant with your baby, Christopher?”

The agent gasps, snorts, tries to cover her reaction by clearing her throat. 

“How is three thousand dollars cheap?”

“Oh. Okay,” Elizabeth says and seems to subside, apparently mollified. The agent starts to hand over their passports to Rio but Elizabeth says, “Christopher, Shirley got a house from John when she got pregnant. Why do I only get jewelry worth three thousand dollars?”

Rio laughs in apparent exasperation. “We have a house already, Elizabeth. You want a second house just because Shirley got one?” Rio takes the passports from the agent and hands them to Elizabeth, “Honey, take the passports and let’s go before we’re late for the wedding. Thank you, officer.” He nods at the agent who looks back at him with a holy-smokes-dude-I-wouldn’t-want-to-be-you expression on his face.

Then they’re driving past the border check-point and there’s a small moment of quiet in which they’re both are experiencing relief that that part is over. Then Rio snorts.

“Holy fuck, mama. I said I needed your soft touch not for you to leave them… like that.” He laughs. 

She sounds smug when she says, “Well, whatever gets the job done, amiright? And quite nicely done too.”

He nods. Nods repeatedly. “Uh huh. It’s done.”

 _Yes, it is, ma._ Inside, he’s wondering how much of that was real. Lord knows he didn’t absolutely have to say that part about loving her. _So why did I just tell you I love you when I didn’t have to?_ He doesn’t know have an answer to that and come to think of it, maybe he’d rather not think on it too long. So Rio brushes the thought aside by repeating Elizabeth’s words to him. _“Whatever gets the job done…”_ he tells himself. _So what if I had to say something I don’t mean?_

_“…something I don’t mean?”_

_But don’t I?_ Rio tightens his grip on the wheel. _Fuck! No. No, I don’t. Just doing whatever gets the job done… and it’s done now so move on, Rio._ But now he’s watching Elizabeth twirl the ‘engagement’ ring round and round her finger and he’s thinking that he wants… Rio swallows. _That’s neither here nor there, Rio._

_“Darling, I love you and baby…”_

_“I love you and baby…”_

_“I love you…”_

Elizabeth rotates the ring on her finger. It’s just a little loose; half a size too large, such that although it won’t slip past her knuckle on its own it goes round easily and she barely notices what she is doing. She hasn’t worn a ring in nearly a year; not since the day she discovered that her husband was cheating on her and she sold her ring to pay the mortgage. _I don’t miss it,_ she realizes. _I don’t miss my wedding ring._

Her eye falls back down to the gorgeous ring on her hand. It’s the farthest thing from the antique ring she had worn for the last twenty years. She knows she should probably regret having sold it; she probably should care about it and want to pass it on to Kenny in case he ever wanted it for his fiancée. But -and this fills her with revulsion- no woman should be forced to wear an engagement ring passed down from a woman who spent two decades being cheated on. _How many years of Boland men cheating on their wives does that ring represent?_ She’s suddenly very glad that she doesn’t have it any longer. 

_“I love you and baby…”_

Did Rio mean that though? Out of the corner of her eye, she tries to see his face. But she’s unexpectedly afraid; afraid to look into his eyes and find nothing in them resembling love; afraid to look at his face and have him see on _her_ face that awful feeling of helpless need for him she’s been having lately; or worse yet, afraid to see his face and be surprised to see something looking back at her that seems like he could maybe almost love her. Because… she asks herself, _what would I do then?_

Her hand drifts down to the baby. Rio’s eyes follow the ring to her belly. He wonders whether they’re having a boy or girl. _A baby. It doesn’t matter whether it’s a boy or girl._ He has a nearly overwhelming urge to pull over and try to sort out with Elizabeth what of their performance was real and what was pretend. 

But he can’t. He can’t pull over because it’s 3.23pm and he has got to be at the rendezvous at 4pm. He can’t because he isn’t sure whether what he said he meant; _I mean, you don’t tell someone that, “I sort of maybe kind of think I could possibly love you…or something.” You have to work that out by yourself first, don’t you, Rio._

But most of all, he can’t tell her because, well… he’s afraid. He’s afraid that one day he’ll be stupid enough to tell her what he feels and he thinks that his twisted sort of need for her will be naked on his face… and there will be nothing on hers. He tells himself he’s wrong because he sees it sometimes; sees almost-love on her face. 

He’s not willing to put it to the test today though. He suddenly knows that he’s not got the steel in his spine to deal with this right now. And although now Elizabeth is no longer visibly upset at him, Rio thinks he knows it’s best to leave well enough alone. This is neither the time nor place to bring up feelings; not when she’s been angry at him the whole way here. Not when he still feels so… uncertain. Tired. Torn. Insecure. Emotionally exhausted. 

He could really almost despise himself for wanting her when it’s obvious that she’s not as heavily invested in him as he is in her. He wishes he knew how to care less; wishes she were every other woman he’s had no qualms breaking things off with; wishes he could just leave this relationship and just be her baby daddy and not… need her. But he can’t. He needs her. He fuckin’ hates it.

So he tells himself what he needs to hear; that he might need her but he doesn’t think he meant what he said about loving her. No, he thinks he knows he didn’t mean it. _I was just getting the job done,_ Rio reassures himself.

So why is he half-shaky on the inside? 

Why does being the baby daddy feel like it’s not enough?

Why does he want so much more?

Why can’t he take his eyes off that ring on her hand?

Why is watching it go round and round on her finger making him breathless?

  
  



	52. Tears and Recriminations: Million Dollar Question

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rio asks the question. It's the million dollar question.

**_Million-Dollar Question_ **

No one else makes her feel this. 

Beth can see into the jewelry shop that’s opposite the bar on the other end of the lobby. She doesn’t want to look at him so she stares at the Caesar salad in front of her. She knows she should eat but she can’t quite bring herself to. She’s exhausted from trying not to watch him. 

Yes, she gets it; when he plonked her down at this specific seat at this bar and told her to order something to eat and drink, he had been clear that he needed her to stay in his line of sight so that he could be sure she was safe, at which she had rolled her eyes but said nothing. Now though, Beth touches her bare neck and thinks she would almost rather take her chances alone with whatever flavor of trouble he seems to be expecting than have to sit here and watch him. 

It’s obvious he’s waiting for  _ her; darling,  _ whoever she is that he’s bringing the jewels to. Beth touches her neck again and her wrist and unexpectedly, she realises that her skin feels… bare. Exposed. Unconsciously, she gets back to twisting the ring on her finger. 

Beth notices that while Rio makes easy conversation with the man behind the glass counter, he keeps looking up and to his right. At first, she can’t make out what’s got his attention but upon closer scrutiny, she sees it; the screen on the wall displaying CCTV feeds. And then it makes sense that he’s chosen this particular jewelry shop;  _ It’s genius really, _ she thinks. 

Because while he can see who’s coming into the lobby on the CCTV feed from the camera mounted above the store’s heavy wooden door,  _ he _ is not visible to anyone walking into the lobby off the street. Then she realizes that he must have some sort of prior relationship with the man behind the display cases of jewelry, because while the screen is divided into six sections, only two have camera feeds running on them. The other four squares are plain black squares. Clearly, some feeds from the security cameras have been switched off. 

She sees Rio smile and dap a second dark-haired man who comes from the back of the shop. Conversation seems to get livelier.  _ How many associates do you have?  _ She wonders then responds to her own query;  _ well, he didn’t get to be who he is by not having partners and connections aplenty.  _ Again, Rio glances at the screen on the right and something about his demeanour changes. Immediately, she knows that their contact has arrived because Rio snaps out of the relaxed but watchful stance he has been in. Now, he looks alert; alive; dangerous. 

So she takes a sip of her drink and tries to see what has got his attention. It takes all of three seconds to spot the contact. 

_ She’s beautiful.  _

_ Petite.  _

_ Dark-haired. _

_ Graceful.  _

_ Gorgeous.  _

_ His type,  _ Beth thinks.  _ And frightened,  _ the thought occurs. That’s when she realizes at what she is looking; a hostage situation of sorts. Because half a step behind the dark-haired woman is a burly man in a suit that’s just a little too slick, just a little too snug to go unnoticed. Just ten or so more steps and they’ll be in the jewelry shop. Rio moves out of her sight and Elizabeth thinks, to the back of the jewelry store. 

Her mouth goes dry. She takes a sip of her drink and tries not to worry; Rio expects trouble. So now she expects trouble. And she suddenly realizes that if anything happens to him, she doesn’t know what he would expect her to do. She’s never doing this again, Beth thinks. If she has to come along, she’s not going to sit on her hands and wait for him. She needs to know what to do in case of a contingency. 

Seven more steps…

And while she had previously wished not to have to watch him interact with whomever he had come to meet –the woman he called darling in that voice- now she really wishes she could see his reaction to her. Because, she wonders,  _ who is she, this gorgeous woman for whom he would go to all this trouble? What is she to him? _ she sniggers at herself, despises herself for caring. Of course, he would go to the trouble; she’s obviously in trouble, whoever she is. It’s obvious she’s scared. 

  
  


Five more steps…

Then she thinks that maybe something about this near constant ache of jealousy and insecurity that she feels around Rio is her subconscious trying to tell her something because in twenty years of marriage to Dean, she had never once had a moment of jealousy, an iota of possessiveness. 

Even now. Even after she found out that he had cheated on her. Even after she found out that he had done it so many times for so long. She doesn’t feel jealous. Or possessive. Or even truly insecure. Just angry that he had disrespected her. And shocked. Shocked because, as she wasn’t the jealous type, the thought had never crossed her mind to worry or obsess over who Dean might be with or what he might be doing even when he was out late at night. 

Not once had she had this sense of self-loathing that she gets in response to her possessiveness over Rio; this shameful awareness of how insecure she really is and how little right she has to feel this way;  _ he’s not mine. I’m not with Rio. I’m with Dean.  _ It diminishes her, denigrates her in her own eyes. 

Three more steps…

But not once had she felt like this with Dean. She wonders whether she had instinctively known, somewhere at the back of her mind, that Dean was not quite the catch he appeared to be on paper. Perhaps, some part of her had realized without her consciously acknowledging it that in marrying Dean, she had taken the easy out. She had settled. And settled for a man who was in so many, many ways just not good enough for her .

Now with Rio…

With Rio… her lip curls in self-contempt. She hates herself;  _ Really, how much can one person despise herself?  _ It’s become such an uncomfortably familiar feeling; such an odd sensation; this discomfort with herself. She’s never had it before.  _ How often can I hate myself? At what point do I decide this is enough and just step away from this situation for my own peace of mind?  _ She has an intensely acute awareness of the world of hurt she is in for the day Rio decides to move on.  _ Why do I think he’ll move on? Move on from what, Beth? He’s not with you.  _ She twists the ring on her finger.  _ Why am I so afraid?  _

Two more steps

Beth is afraid. With Rio, she’s afraid of some as yet unknown future pain; it looms over her, the fear of some faceless woman who it will one day turn out that Rio loves… or wants to be with more than he does with her, Beth. Maybe some woman that he calls darling. And she doesn’t know why she’s been doing it but in the last week she has noticed that she has been using Drug-beth’s face as some sort of placeholder face for the unknown woman she is going to lose Rio to.  _ He’s not yours, Beth, to lose.  _

One more step…

But now, for the first time since she faced up to this constant dread, she has a face to put to a situation and Drug-beth’s face is gone and in its place is her -darling’s- face; whoever she is. She pushes her plate away.  _ Pathetic, Beth. Pathetic. Imagine what Annie would say if she knew how hang up over Rio you are. “I love you and baby…”  _ She flushes and looks down at the ring on her finger.  _ It’s only pretend. Play the game, Beth. Play the game and if it ends, it ends and that’s just life. _

The petite, ebony-haired woman pushes open the door and steps into the jewelry store closely followed by her burly apparent captor. 

**چوچو**

_ Call me a thief;  _ _ There's been a robbery _

_ I left with her heart;  _ _ Tore it apart _

_ Broken and scarred;  _ _ Made no apologies _

_ I've been living in the darkness _

_ Shadows in my apartment, heartless _

_ Taking love just to spill it on parchment _

_ Next page and I'm out again _

_ Follow me like the fears I swallow _

_ All I know is if my skin bled _

_ Like the ink dripped from my pen _

_ My bed will be drenched in a scarlet rose red _

_ And drown in all my mistake _

_ I say good night and walk out the door _

**Mood Music Credit: Thief** by **Ansel Elgort**

“We have a 4 o’clock meeting with Tony,” Mei says. Her voice is tremulous and she tries to bring it under control She doesn’t quite succeed but although one can still hear an underlying note of fear, the tremor in her voice is gone when she next speaks. 

“Yeah, I’m Tony.” 

Mei runs her eye over the display and then looks back up at Tony. The jewelry in the store is surprisingly good. And if this is the stuff in the front of the store, she thinks the stones in the vault must be really high-end.  _ But then again, _ she thinks,  _ what did I expect? _ If Rio trusts them to handle 7.5 million in sapphires, it stands to reason that they would be a high-end jeweler. Mei nods to herself; Yes, just the fact that the store is located on the ground floor of the flagship Hotel of the five-star Baptiste Group of Hotels is enough to suggest what one might expect to find in the vault. 

It’s genius; the choice of this place as the designated drop-point. Because they had to go through two security checks, Mei is sure that Fredric hasn’t a weapon on him. He had been furious once he figured out that he would have to leave his gun in the car. But furious and greedy is a combination that does not well lend itself to rational thought because although Rio had been cold on the phone and clear that he would only send the jewels but not show up, a part of Mei had wondered whether that wasn’t a means to disarm her jailer. To lull him into a false sense of security before Rio showed up and ambushed him. 

The thought hadn’t seemed to occur to Fredric that Rio might show up after all. In fact, Mei had listened to him tell his boss on the phone that “The little Asian woman does not have the friends she thought she had. He told her if I shoot her, he would be okay with that. Women!” Fredric had followed it up by braying his raucous laughter into the phone. 

She shivers when she remembers what Rio had said to her that Tuesday night at 1 o’clock,  _ “Gimme just one reason why I should even lift a finger to help you, Mei when you’re making money with the wrong people. ‘Cause now, maybe I think if he puts a bullet in you, he’ll be out 7.2mill and I’ll be out one faithless associate and I think both of those things can only help me.”  _

_ Focus, Mei.  _ She says, “I was told my jewelry would be ready at 4pm. I’ve come to collect.”

Tony hesitates then says something that sinks makes Mei’s heart sink. “Your courier didn’t come in but he sent your package to our store in Montreal. We’ve only just received it half an hour ago. I’m having the stones taken out of their setting for you.”

Mei’s heart twists. She wants to cry and although she won’t, -will not give this bastard who’s been holding her hostage the satisfaction- she really wants to let that sob in her chest out. because she’d been counting on Rio coming for her. Now… now, she has to accept that she’ll lose the stones. Because once Fredric takes possession of the stones, he’ll just walk out of here and she will have lost them.

She’ll lose the stones and she won’t even know to whom they went because this bastard, Fredric –Mei doesn’t believe that’s his real name- who has been holding a gun on her and watching her and not letting her out of his sight even when she takes a shower is just a middle-man. And she can’t exactly raise the alarm because if someone calls security and the police get involved, she will wind up in an even bigger mess. 

She despises him. Despises him and the way, when she stepped into the shower and locked the frosted glass door behind her, his shifty eyes would slide over her as though he wanted to follow her in. She knows that the only reason she is still unharmed today was the promise of 7.5 million in sapphires.  _ Otherwise… _ Mei shudders to think what Fredric might have done. 

Twice, she had considered killing him while he dozed in a chair but had realized it was a bad idea as her fingerprints and DNA would be all over the crime scene as would a physical description of her from the staff that had managed her room service over the last 4 days. 

Now though, she knows that Fredric is not his own boss. She had finally figured that out from listening in on his phone calls; the one advantage of being watched so closely by your captor being that although they see and hear everything you do, you also get to hear everything they say and do. Unfortunately, she has no leverage to get him to take her to his boss; he has no reason to comply. And it’s the boss she wants. And Jeremy. Not this guy. 

She swallows her tears and thinks to herself that she wishes she had trusted Rio sooner; told him who she really was and the mess she is in.  _ Maybe… maybe then he would have come for me,  _ she thinks.  _ That’s neither here nor there, Mei.  _ She swallows against the lump in her throat.  _ I should have trusted him, told him long ago. I couldn’t though. He would probably have killed me on the spot.  _ She fidgets with her feet.  _ Yet Rio still did this for me; sent me my stones and almost three million dollars more. You know what you’ve always known; he likes you. You little fool, Mei.  _

She tries to pay attention to the matter at hand. “Tony, how much longer before you get the stones loose?” 

_ I should just have told Rio sooner. But he didn’t come though; he just sent the sapphires.  _

She places her hand on the glass display case and tries to steady herself. She wants to scoff at herself.  _ There’s no one coming to save you, Mei. You’ve gone so far off the reservation for so long, that you’re lucky if you end up alive after all this. You know your own side might disappear you just as easily as though you were a villain in their eyes. Well, I am… _ She tries not to think of the things she’s done in the last three years. _ I am.  _

She wonders whether Tony is somehow one of Rio’s close associates or if his store is just another randomly chosen drop-off point.  _ Maybe I can come back and squeeze him for information. Get him to hand over the security recordings so I can find this so-called Fredric again. You and what army, Mei? No one’s coming to help you. Your last hope was Rio and he might have sent the stones but he sure as hell doesn’t trust you enough to show up in person for you so… _

_ Once he finds out what I’ve done, what he and I had is done. Over.  _ She clutches onto the side of the display case. She feels… alone. Without support for the first time in seven years.  _ Well, at least when that knock comes on Rio’s door, the stones won’t be in his...  _

Mei looks up and that’s when she sees them; the four blank squares on the screen on the wall to her right. And her heart starts thudding because she thinks she knows… she thinks she knows that Tony has no reason to turn off those four camera feeds unless… unless there’s something or someone in his store that he doesn’t want showing up on camera. 

And it’s not the sapphires because the store is full of sapphires, both set in jewelry and loose stones on trays. Handing over a package of jewels to her would be the simplest thing in the world and the camera feed would never prove that those jewels were not just cheaper stones from Tony’s store being sold to a legitimate client. _ There’s only one thing that would make Tony turn off his own security feed; if he’s got to hide a friend from the cameras. And since Rio chose this drop-point…  _ she thinks to herself, _ who else could Tony possibly be keeping off the cameras? Just Rio.  _ She wants to smile… laugh… cry… something.  _ He’s got to be here. _

Confirmation of her suspicions comes when Tony says, “Please come and inspect the stones in the vault and see if they were what you ordered.” 

_ An ambush… _ Mei thinks. Then her heart starts pounding and she suddenly wonders if Rio really trusts Tony and what the chances are that Tony might be working for the other side. Then she tells herself she’s being paranoid and that being out here alone is making her a little crazy because she didn’t get the drop-off location from Rio until just twenty three minutes ago.  _ There’s no way someone got here before us and turned Tony in that time. Tony; he’s Rio’s man. So he’s neutral or a friend.  _ Unobtrusively, she glances at the four blacked out squares on the screen;  _ a friend. He’s a friend. And Rio…  _ She exhales the breath she’s holding.  _ Rio’s here somewhere.  _

Fredric shoves her a little. 

“Walk faster,” he growls under his breath at her. 

She does. She does and while on any other day being shoved by this bastard would have infuriated her, now she wants to laugh. She wants to laugh because she knows what’s coming for him in a few more seconds; _ Rio.  _ She really could laugh. She steps faster after Tony.

Tony puts his face up to the retinal scanner and pushes the vault door open. Mei steps in behind him and the thought, _You're really no_ __t_ the sharpest tool in the shed, are you, Fredric?  _ flits through her mind. 

She sees it out of the corner of her eye. She thinks Fredric does too; the last thing he sees is Rio’s fist coming at his face. Mei scoots out of the way. The first punch takes Fredric right at the angle of his jaw. Stunned, Fredric starts to turn to his left; Rio’s fist crashes into Fredric’s left cheekbone and nose. Blood spurts out of his broken nose. Then he crumples to the floor; out for the count. Rio could almost laugh;  _ How fuckin’ easy was that? _

Mei lets out a strange panting noise then tears spill from her eyes.  _ What the hell? _ Rio thinks. What is it with women around him crying. 

“Yo. What’d I say about the tears, Mei? Can it, yeah?”

She nods. But then she does the next worst thing; she does that thing she likes to do; melds herself to him, dissolves into his side and under his arm and presses her face to his chest. Except this time, there’s none of her usual sensuality in that gesture; just relief painfully evident in every inch of her, sagging into him for comfort. 

He runs a hand once down her shoulder and arm then pushes her away. “Stop it with the tears, Mei.” 

She nods then says, “I thought you weren’t coming.”

“So? I’d still have sent you the stones.” Rio knows what she’s saying but he is not in a mood for sentimentality today. Not when Mei has been screwing him over by doing business with this guy, whoever he is -and indirectly with Jeremy- and now, Rio fuckin’ hopes she’s not involved in any of the smuggling of minors that Jeremy has apparently been up to because that’s about to get really ugly. Really fast.

_ “So? I’d still have sent you the stones.”  _

Really, he had thought of doing just that; somehow figuring out a way to send the stones but there was no way to do it except by sending a woman who could get away with wearing that many sapphires on her neck -only Elizabeth could have pulled it off- and he wasn’t about to send her here alone. Just as importantly, he had wanted to come and ask Mei one question, 

“What on earth were you thinking, Mei?” 

She flinches.  _ No ‘darlings’ for me today,  _ she thinks. 

“I made a mistake.” She doesn’t call him by his name. Nor indeed by any of the terms of endearment she likes to use on him;  _ No Rio-xiānshēng, no Ying, no Kawa-san today. _ She thinks she knows that he would be disdainful of her if she tried coyness today. All the intrigue has fallen away; stripped away by his cold, hard tone,  _ What on earth were you thinking, Mei?”  _ and his polite but uncompromising push of his hands moving her back out of his personal space. 

“Oh, that’s for sure; you made a mistake. Who is he and why have I brought you so much of my money when you’re going behind my back?” Rio pushes Fredric a little with the tip of his oxfords. Something about that makes Mei happy;  _ serves you right, you bastard, _ she thinks as she stares down at Rio’s foot prodding Fredric’s still unconscious form. 

She starts to explain; she knows there are a few holes in the story she is telling Rio but she can’t bring herself to tell him everything. Not now when they’re standing in a vault with an unconscious man at their feet and her at a distinct disadvantage; not with him looking at her like… that. Like that. As though he doesn’t understand –she knows he’s taking note of the holes in her story- and also as though he’s almost too impatient to care. He is. Too impatient to care. 

He cuts her off. 

“Listen, Mei… my only take away from this little fiasco, is that I can’t trust you. And I shouldn’t be doing business with you. So here’s what we’re going to do; two weeks and you bring my money to me in Detroit. I’d take it with me as I can see you won’t need it. I hardly think you’ll pay out to this guy now…” 

He pokes at Fredric’s unconscious form with his shoe again. “But I’m not carrying them across the border again so that’s your mess. I will tell you where and when to bring it. In cash, Mei. Don’t try anything dubious or things won’t end well for either of us.”

“Rio, I…”

He ignores her. “Tony, can you take care of this guy?”

“Of course. What do you need?”

“I don’t know, Tony. This is not my city, man.”

“Yeah… but do you want him alive or dead?” Tony asks in the most casual tone of voice. As though they aren’t discussing a man’s murder.

Rio chokes. Laughs.  _ What the fuck! When did killing a guy become this easy? Do I want him alive or dead?  _

“What the fuck, Tony. I’m not killing a guy in Canada.” He grins and shakes his head at Tony. “I mean, we go back a ways, Tony, and I’ll leave it to you to do what you think best but come on, when did we start offing people like this?” Rio snaps his fingers.

Tony shrugs noncommittally. “What do I know, Rio? Maybe you need him not to talk.” 

“Why, Tony? I was never here, remember?” Rio says. 

“Oh, shit, yeah. Well, in that case, maybe I’d prefer to put him in the ground sooner rather than later. Before he decides to come try to knock over the store when she doesn’t pay him what she owes.”

“No. No, you can’t kill him,” Mei interjects. They both look at her. 

Rio’s eyes narrow. “Why not, Mei, darling?” His voice is so soft that if she didn’t know better she would imagine he wasn’t angry at her. But she knows better. Still, his voice makes her skin tingle and she wants to plaster herself to him. She blushes.

“I need to find out who he’s working with.”

“I thought you said it’s Jeremy?” Rio asks.

Mei shakes her head. “There’s someone else; he kept calling someone. He has a boss. And I need to find my supplier and I have this feeling that they know something.” 

“The guy who didn’t show up with whatever you were selling and left you on the hook for it?” Mei nods in response. 

And Rio knows he’s being spiteful but he feels a bit like being an asshole; he thinks he’s earned the right. So he says, “How’d that feel, darling? Being fucked over by your partner? Good?” 

She looks shocked out of her state of relative calmness. “I…”

Rio shakes his head at her. “Nah, Mei. You know what; I’m out. There are your stones. You’re safe. That’s more than you deserve, to be honest. I’m done. There’s your man on the floor. Enjoy yourself, yeah?” 

Then he says to Tony what he knows will hurt Mei but is, in his opinion, absolutely necessary, “Tony, you two decide what you do with this guy on the floor. I’d tell you not to trust her farther than you can throw her but as you can see, she’s pretty petite…you might be able to throw her farther than it is wise to trust her.”

Mei goes ashen.  _ Mmmmh. That’s right darling. I’m locking that door and throwing away the key.  _ So why does he feel like he’s making a mistake throwing away four years of… partnership? Of almost-friendship? 

The man on the floor groans as he comes to. Tony starts to ziptie him. 

Rio wants to walk out but now that he thinks of it, he’s got another question. Because –and he thinks maybe he is a fool after all- he thinks he’s not quite ready to throw away the key. Maybe he’ll just keep it away someplace safe. 

“Mei…” he motions her out of the door with a jerk of his head.

“I don’t need to know your business right now. I just need to know one thing, Mei; am I going to regret doing what I’ve done today?”

Mei stops beside him. “You don’t trust me. Why does it matter what I tell you?”

Rio bends over the display set. He’s picking out a new set of cufflinks now that the ones he was previously in have had the sapphires removed. The sales assistant behind the counter brings out two pairs of cufflinks and moves away to give Rio and Mei their privacy. Rio glances out at the bar and for a moment, he meets Elizabeth’s eyes. She looks away. So he looks back at Mei.

“I’m giving you a chance to tell me the truth, Mei. Will I regret helping you?”

She wants to tell him. She wants to tell him the whole story. But this place… this place feels wrong. And his eyes keep slipping past her to something behind her. She thinks he must be looking at someone. Someone who he can’t keep his eyes off. Because it’s obvious that Rio is trying not to be unobtrusive about his little glances but she knows how Rio usually talks to her, looks at her; gives her his undivided attention. And today his attention is elsewhere. With whatever… or more likely, whomever- is on the other side of the glass behind her. 

_ “Will I regret helping you?” _

Mei shakes her head. “I’ll bring your money to you.”

Rio huffs out a breath. “Because that’s what this is about, huh? Money?”

She seems taken aback. Mei opens her mouth, starts to say something. Closes it. Suddenly, he feels… angry. Disappointed. Furious. Betrayed.  _ I sure know how to pick ‘em, _ he thinks. 

“Why’d you do it, Mei?” he growls at her. He wants to crowd into her space but he holds himself back. “Why’re you doing business with a guy like Jeremy and putting money in his pocket knowing these guys are out to get me? You said it yourself, Mei; lots of enemies trying to take me out.”

She wants to tell him. She wants to tell him that she didn’t betray him. That part of what she has done is for him.

She sighs, “I know what I said, Rio.” 

“Yeah? So this is what you spilling some blood for me means? Gimme a break, Mei.” 

Mei wants to hit him; to wipe that disbelieving smirk off his face and yell at him that, “Yes. Yes, this is what spilling blood for you looks like, Rio-xiānshēng. It’s messy and it’s hard… and I’m all alone and I’ve been terrified for days and I don’t know if I still have a place to call home; to go back to when all this is done and you’re looking at me like… that.  _ Like that!” _

She doesn’t tell him. She doesn’t because it’s pointless. Pointless unless she can tell him the whole story. Pointless unless she can get him to believe her. There’s only one way to get him to know that she’s on his side. And this silence that she’s giving him now feels like losing him; losing that blurry-around-the-edges partnership –maybe friendship- that they’ve had for four years.

She stays quiet.  _ Not now, Mei. Not until that knock on his door...  _ She inhales quietly. She needs to get back in there with Tony and find out who Fredric really is.  _ You’ve got to work fast, Mei.  _ She tells herself. Rio is standing there waiting for her to tell him something. Something to justify what he has done for her. She keeps her mouth closed.  _ Goddamn you, Mei.  _

So he does the next best thing, he asks her a question that he already knows the answer to see if she’ll tell him a lie. 

“When you’re ready to get back to your G6 at the airport, tell Tony I said he should drop you off.” He pauses, seems to falter. “Or can you call your own cab?”

She shudders and her response is entirely unthinking, “I hate cabs. And the jet is in Detroit.” 

He knows. He knows the plane is in Detroit. For the last 2 days, he’s had his inside man at airport security reporting on who comes and goes near the hangar where her G6 is.  _ Hmmm. Well, I’m glad you told me the truth, darling. _

He makes a face, tilts his head at her then he tells her, “Two weeks Mei. 4.8 million is what your stones are worth, Mei. Then 20% interest on 2 mill and 40% on 0.7 mill.” He smiles weakly at her, “And that doesn’t include my emotional distress fee.”

“Emotional distress?” 

Again, Rio is smiling but Mei can see that the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. 

“Why? Did you think I was doing this for laughs, Mei? Nah. When someone I’ve done business with for four years tries to screw me over and then has the audacity to ask for my help, it doesn’t exactly make me jump for joy, yeah? So what d’you say, Mei?”

“See you in two weeks, Rio-xiānshēng.” She turns and starts to walk back to the back of the store. And she really thinks she wants Rio to trust her because against her best instincts, she turns and walks right back to him and says quietly, “Alicia Mei Parker.” She steps away from him, meets his eyes and continues, “That’s my name.”

He seems taken aback. He is. Floored. He never thought she’d ever tell him her real name.  _ And all this while, Mei was her real name? _

He doesn’t know why he reaches out and catches her small face in his hand. “Mei? That’s really your name, darling?”

She smiles weakly. “Yes.”

Rio tilts his head at her. It makes her want to smile. Is there any gesture more Rio-esque than that head tilt? 

"Why’re you telling me your name now?” He pauses. “Come to think of it, darling, I’ve never heard anyone else call you ‘Mei’ so why’d you tell me your real name four years ago?”

There is something sad about her face when she says in a shaky voice that Rio would never have expected to hear from her, “That’s the 2.7 million-dollar question, isn’t it?” 

There’s something sad about Mei face because she’s finally seen what Rio had been looking at; the beautiful blonde at the bar. It’s the way the blonde looks right at Mei before glancing down and into her drink that makes Mei pay attention to her. That and how beautiful she is. 

But it’s the scarf tied under the blonde’s ample bosom that is the giveaway. Because in Rio’s breast pocket, is the same floral blue and burgundy print. Mei steps farther away and out of the grasp of his fingers on her chin. Rio frowns. She walks away.

Mei disappears into the back of the jewelers and Tony comes out a minute later. When Rio steps out of the jeweler’s he holds a long flat case with a necklace and bracelet inside it. It’s the same necklace and bracelet that Elizabeth had been in, only that this time the sapphires are heat-treated replacements of Mei’s perfect jewels. A pair of plain gold cufflinks sparkles at his wrists.

**چوچو**

“Hey, mama. Tell me you ate something?”

She turns in her seat and looks up at him, “Yes, I…” She starts to smile up at him but her voice trails off and her smile dissolves into… 

_ What’s that expression, sweetheart?  _ Rio thinks. 

**Author's Note:**

> Lemme know what you think: your comments keep inspiring me.
> 
> I let music inspire me too: so pls find lots of what I listen to hiding in there.  
> Pls read the mood music lyrics: I promise they are so significant to the story.


End file.
